


A Pirate's Tale

by PinkGold



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 18th Century, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Angst with a Happy Ending, Black Sails - Freeform, Drama, Everyone Needs A Hug, Howard Stark's Bad Parenting, Minor Character Death, Multi, Non-Graphic Smut, Non-Graphic Violence, Period-Typical Homophobia, Polyamory, Protective Bucky Barnes, Romance, black sails au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:20:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25245277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkGold/pseuds/PinkGold
Summary: Tony had just finished setting the last bandage over Bucky’s right shoulder before he spoke again. His voice was soft now, almost a whisper.“I miss him, you know?”“I miss him too,” Bucky admitted as he rested their foreheads together. A shudder crept down Tony’s spine as he seemed to try to shake the sadness away. It was doting, despise it all.ORPirate AU where Bucky, Steve and Tony have a past, a present and a future together. Not everything is easy, in fact, easy may not have been in their vocabulary to start with.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Nakia (Black Panther)/Okoye/T'Challa, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 51
Kudos: 110





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> aaaaaa!!! Hello!!! So I'm not sure if you know, but I spent the last three months writing this pirate story. My new baby is finally complete! The narrative is split in two timelines, but I don't think it will be hard to follow them.
> 
> A Note: the story is based on Black Sails, a tv show about pirates that's one of my favorite things ever created <3 **you don't have to have watched it to understand the fic.** I actually asked a few friends who'd never watched Black Sails to tell me if there was missing information on plot and whatnot to make sure everyone could read with no problem!!! Although, if you want to watch, or is watching it, beware: there are some spoilers ahead. If you already watched, hope you enjoy it and can tell which character is which!! 
> 
> An enoooooormous thanks to my beta @high_functioning_sociopath for always being there for me and listening to me whine all the time. Also, thanks to @swisstae who was also there for me when I asked for help. Love you guys, you keep me going.
> 
> With all that being said, I hope you enjoy this new adventure!! <3

_“They paint the world full of shadows... and then tell their children to stay close to the light. Their light.  
Their reasons, their judgments. Because in the darkness, there be dragons. But it isn't true. _   
_We can prove that it isn't true. In the dark, there is discovery, there is possibility, there is freedom in the dark_   
_once someone has illuminated it. And who has been so close to doing it as we are right now?”_

**-** **Captain Flint, Black Sails**

###  **May 25th, 1704, London**

The park was bustling with life when James Barnes exited his carriage in the middle of one of London’s finest streets. Wealthy women of the high society were chatting and walking, their flamboyant parasols hanging high above their heads, protecting them from the high summertime sun.

James adjusted his black uniform hat firmer on his head and let a gush of air leave his lungs. He wasn’t nervous, per se, yet he did not normally interact with noblemen on his daily basis. He didn’t interact much at all, to be honest.

The navy was a fine place full of men like him, who adored the silence of the open seas and sometimes the chants of his navy comrades. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy other people’s company, but the sea changes you and, if you are anything like James, when you spend too much time away from land, there are a few things you will need to relearn.

But even though there was a tension coursing through his veins, James still enjoyed these moments in central London. It was so very far and unfamiliar from the sea he was normally used to, but he missed the trees, the green, birds that were _not_ seagulls, those fancy small dogs with intricate bows tied to their heads.

James chuckled, some things were just too ridiculous to take seriously.

He adjusted his collar once and strolled into the park, walking in with the formality-informality the navy taught him over the years.

It wasn’t difficult to find his newest partner, Lord Steven Rogers. He was standing with his broad back to James, looking down to the cluster of ducks and swans a few inches away from him, as the lord himself threw pieces of lettuce for them into the pond at his feet.

His white wig came to the length of his shoulders, and it was tied at the back with a delicate knot from a dark, silk ribbon. His long coat was a deep azure that landed at his knees, and it shone beautifully against the sunlight.

James cleared his throat once he stood next to him, just a few feet away, facing the pond pointedly. He saw the Lord turn elegantly towards him from the corner of his eye, and only then did James look at him.

Clear blue eyes. That’s all James saw for a fraction of a moment. They were full of life, he could tell only by glancing at them for a first time. The smile on his face was lazy, like the muscles in his face were already used to smiling, like it was a customary expression.

And it might be. James didn’t know much about the nobility, but he knew about the façades one had to put up in order to live a fabricated elite life amongst folks alike.

“You must be Lieutenant James Barnes, correct?” Lord Rogers said, voice velvety and rich. Rich with what, James was yet to find out.

James nodded, “At your service, my Lord.” he promptly took his hat off and bowed, the gesture all too familiar. Good thing he didn’t forget to tie his hair as well, otherwise it would have been a mess after the bow.

Lord Rogers was looking at him with intensity in his eyes after James straightened himself, his left brow raised. It wasn’t a cold stare, on the opposite. It felt warm and intriguing… he shook any thought away, the Lord was probably curious by his more humble appearances.

“Shall we start?” James asked after the man made no motion to move or speak again. Lord Rogers blinked, startled back to himself and blushed faintly.

“My apologies. Please, accompany me for a walk.”

They were deep in the red roses garden when conversation struck again.

“I’m sure that the navy told you why you are here today?”

_“The Lord probably needs someone to babysit him now that his father has left for the countryside.”_ His colleagues had mocked and laughed when they learned about his newest mission, but James just rolled his eyes. The admiral had told him priorly that whatever business Rogers wanted, James was the best guy he had to deal with.

And he trusted his admiral.

“No, sir,” he said, sparing the lord of the rude commentary from his colleagues, “Admiral Pierce just told me I’d be better suited for this than the others.”

Lord Rogers seized him up and down and not quite smiled in answer.

“I hope the admiral is right.” he said, and James freezed. But before he could ask for the lord to repeat himself, Lord Rogers continued, “You are a carpenter’s son, am I right?”

Oh, _there_ it was. A warm slick of rage surged through his chest, and he did all he could to smother that rage before it got to his face.

“You are correct, although I never met my father, if you remember that part from my files correctly, sir.” he brought his hands together behind his back and squeezed them tightly, “I was raised by Alexander Pierce himself.”

The information didn’t seem to stun Lord Rogers as much as James had wanted.

“Ah, yes. The admiral’s son, I remember it now.” he said lightly, just as they passed a perfectly trimmed bush of giant roses.

James closed his eyes momentarily while Lord Rogers turned to admire the flowers and counted his breaths silently. He knew he would be judged today, he just knew it. James had prepared himself for this before leaving his accommodations, but to feel the cold judgment from a nobleman on his skin was different than imagining it. The worst part was realizing the man didn’t even consider himself rude.

Deep breaths, he reminded himself. First impressions were never pleasant.

“I’m curious, sir. What is it that you plan on doing that you might need a navy lieutenant for?” James restarted the conversation. The admiral would eat him alive if something went wrong on their very first meeting.

“Oh, the sea, Lieutenant Barnes. I need your knowledge and experience.”

James raised an eyebrow. That intrigued him. A member of the high class admitting he didn’t hold the entire knowledge on his own private library? That would be a first.

“And for what purpose, may I ask?”

The excitement that shone on his growing smile made James remind himself of a kid ready to be mischievous. James was already speculating some reasons in his mind. Probably the lord just wanted a moment alone with a working man to write a book, or try to live an exciting life through the eyes of someone poorer than him. Of course, James would comply. He would ignore the twinge of shame and tell the man every—

“To save Nassau from destruction.”

What?

“I’m sorry, my Lord, did you say something about Nassau?”

“Yes, Lieutenant, you heard it correctly.” When James kept looking at him with a blank expression, he continued, “I’m making it my job to acquire that island back for England.”

“With all due respect, my Lord,” James schooled his face before he accidentally smiled like a maniac; this was bordering ridiculous, “how are you going to do that when the island is flooded with pirates?”

“With your help, of course, Lieutenant,” Lord Rogers smiled cordially, “I can assure you that if we join forces we can find a way to save it.”

“What do you intend to do with all those pirates? I’m not sure we have enough space to hang them all.”

Lord Rogers sighed, but, as James glimpsed at him, he didn’t look tired or resigned. The expression in his face was one born out of logical thinking. He started walking again, down the soil path that took them to the biggest pond in the park. James followed the lord like a duck, and annoyance rose from his chest at that.

“We don’t have to talk about the pirates now. I see we do not seem to have the same view of them.”

_‘Same view’?_ James frowned, stunned to silence. Lord Rogers managed to make that sound as though James’ view was wrong. But James fought against them, he saw the emptiness in their eyes as they surged forward and killed whoever was in front of them mercilessly.

Pirates were savages, James knew that from experience and from scars.

How privileged could someone be to have a different opinion about pirates? What, James pondered, could Lord Rogers had read in one of his million golden paged books that could have told him a different story? 

But James kept his mouth shut. What good would it do to openly disagree with a lord? James liked his job very much, and this partnership was probably going to be temporary, or at least until Lord Rogers realized whatever he was trying to accomplish would be inconsequential. 

And… as much as James loved the sea, he did just come back from a two years post in the open waters. Maybe this change wouldn’t be as bad as it sounded. At least he had Lord Steve’s lunatic ideas to keep him entertained.

Lord Rogers ceased his stroll right at the top of the bridge over the pond and leaned on his elbows at the wooden rail. There were a few turtles swimming purposefully from one side to the other, popping their tiny heads out of the water to breath from time to time.

“If we will not take into account the pirates in Nassau for now, what do you suggest we discuss?”

The lord’s eyes lit up and he straightened his back with poorly hidden excitement.

“Oh, Lieutenant, I’m so glad you asked. We have much to discuss.”

-

By the time they covered most aspects about the island’s economy, the sun was starting to set at the western horizon, giving all the trees and bushes golden halos as a goodnight gift.

Lord Rogers souneds satisfied by their conversation, and James had to admit it had been too long since the last time he had found time to talk that much with someone about a challenging topic. Of course, they had disagreed in some matters, but that is only normal in discussions like this. At the end of the day, James could say he had a pleasant evening.

“Take care, Lieutenant.” Lord Steve said once they got back to the main road.

“You as well, my Lord.” He bowed again, “I will send you a letter with the address to our next meeting tomorrow, if that’s alright.”

“It would be perfect. Thank you for your company.”

And as the lord climbed in an elegant carriage with little difficulty, James let himself smile. This would be nothing if not extraordinary. 

###  **April 4th, 1715, Nassau**

The noise from the bar died down the moment he entered. His heavy footsteps a slow thump against the wooden floor as the sound echoed through the dead silence. All eyes were on him, tense and precise. There wasn’t a single pirate in the room that wouldn’t be ready to bolt or lunge at him if he gave an opening. But that wasn’t why he found himself in this bar, no.

He locked eyes with Natasha Romanov on the other side of the counter, and with a single nod, he climbed the stairs two at a time. Natasha tailed after him, not close enough to step on the hem of his long coat, but enough that he had all his escape routes blocked by her, if he decided to run.

“Captain Bucky,” Natasha nodded towards her table once she closed the doors to her personal office after her, “How long are you staying?”

Bucky watched her sit at her chair, cross her legs and entwine her fingers over the table before opening his mouth. He didn’t sit, he wasn’t sure he could: his joints still screamed whenever he moved. M’Baku’s men weren’t very receptive to him or his crew last night. 

Instead, he rested his hand over the handle of his sword and stood in formal resting position.

“Not long. I’m back for more supplements, and tomorrow morning we'll set sail again. The crew is not dealing well with the attack last night.”

“I can talk with M’Baku if you want.” She filled two goblets with wine, taking one for herself and sliding the other in Bucky’s direction.

Bucky sighed and drank the wine in one go. “Right now, he’s the least of my problems.”

She studied him through the edge of her goblet, not giving anything away at that moment, just a blank expression on her sun kissed face. She put down her goblet after a few moments.

“I need that treasure, Bucky.”

“So do I. We’re in this together.” he firmly placed the metal cup on the table, eyes boring on Natasha’s.

But the look on her face made him think she knew more than she was saying.

-

The equatorial sun hit him mercilessly once Bucky left Natasha’s bar. He wanted to punch something, maybe kill something. Natasha giving up on him was the _last_ thing he needed at moment.

He moved, the dirt soil mixed with sand rasping against his black boots as he walked through the conglomerate of houses and people. His eyes met Nakia’s from inside her brothel, sitting imperiously while the people around her were half naked, half driven with lust. He could even pinpoint some of his men amidst them.

He couldn’t bring himself to care. He turned away and made his way out of the center of the island, going up the hill until not even the giant fort was in his horizon. He kept walking, until sand gave away to grass, and farm houses could be seen in the distance.

The church rose on his right, a few horses ran free on the fields and suddenly there it was. A lonely humble house. Bucky’s shoulder slumped at the sight. It looked intact, free from any attack. It wasn’t much more than a cottage, but it was clean and it had rooms with mattresses and sheets, and it was more than Bucky deserved.

The smoke coming out of the chimney made his heart leap. He was just in time for the afternoon tea. His face opened up in a smile, and Bucky ignored the sting from the wounds on his face opening at the movement.

Bucky hesitated only a little before swinging the door open, and the hinges sung loud in the quiet space. Well, almost quiet. The clinking of china stopped immediately and it was quickly swapped with hopeful steps coming his way. Bucky closed the door behind him and slowly turned to see a man, _his_ man, on the door frame that connected the living room to the kitchen looking at him, eyes wide with poorly hidden relief.

“Hello, Tony.” Bucky said with a nervous smile.

“James.” Tony closed the distance between them and wrapped careful arms around him, minding his injuries, most likely. Tony planted a longing kiss to his lips and Bucky returned it with the same amount of emotions.

Felt nice to be home again.

“How did you get these injuries?” Tony asked once they parted, already moving around and opening drawers to fish out cloths and bandages to clean Bucky.

“The other pirate crew.” Bucky hissed at the pressure of the wet cloth against his swollen cheek, “M’Baku doesn’t seem to be over Natasha’s treason. He took it on us.”

“Because you sided with her?” Tony frowned, eyes glued on the wounds. Bucky nodded and Tony let out a tired sigh, “I still don’t understand how you need that woman’s help. She can’t be trusted.”

“She owns the island, Tony, she’s a powerful ally.”

Tony hummed in agreement despite himself. The room fell into a melancholy silence, and the cold, sad feelings that normally took hold of Bucky crept through his every pore. Examining Tony’s face, Bucky could tell his lover felt just as empty as himself, if not more.

Tony had just finished setting the last bandage over Bucky’s right shoulder before he spoke again. His voice was soft now, almost a whisper.

“I miss him, you know?”

He stared at Tony, shock and sorrow dancing freely around his expressions. He gently cupped Tony’s hand in his and squeezed it, then left a kiss at Tony’s creased brow, and the tip of his nose, and his cheeks, then for last, his lips.

“I miss him too,” Bucky admitted as he rested their foreheads together. A shudder crept down Tony’s spine as he seemed to try to shake the sadness away. It was doting, despise it all. When Tony looked him in the eyes again, there was something like determination rising on them.

“Let me go with you.” His words made Bucky’s spine straighten up stiffly. His shoulders tensed, and Tony quickly finished what he had to say before Bucky could intervene, “You know I trained. I’m better than all those pirates under your command and you know it.”

Bucky’s anger dissipated just as fast as it rose. It was Tony’s eyes, full of hope and determination, ready to fight to stand by Bucky’s side in the ship. Ready to kill…

“I can’t lose you too, Tony,” and if Tony heard Bucky’s voice breaking, he didn’t mention.

Tony’s forehead creased with sorrow as he searched Bucky’s eyes.

“How do you think I feel when you go out there on your own?”

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut to hold his emotions in place. He heard Tony sighing in surrender and moving away. It hurt Bucky, he wanted to hug and promise Tony nothing would go wrong, that in the end they’d be happy, but he couldn’t do that, and Tony knew it.

“Tea is ready,” Tony called from the kitchen, and Bucky dropped the subject just like that.

###  **June 13th, 1704, London**

“I’m not quite sure what we will accomplish here in the docks, Lieutenant.”

James smirked to himself, of course Lord Rogers didn’t know. The docks were bustling with people going in every direction. It was just after two in the afternoon, and normally that time was reserved for a quick _siesta_ all around London, courtesy of their old-time enemies, Spain. 

But the docks never stopped. Ships arrived and left at any given moment, so the place was a hectic fury of people weaving around one another and others selling supplies to whoever wanted to buy, and so on.

It was a mess, but James found that soothing.

“You’ll see, my Lord. Just walk with me.”

Lord Rogers nodded and followed James down the paved street, following James’ movements exactly so as not to step on the puddles of sea water and mud. He stayed close to James as well, a little closer than arm’s length, not to get separated from him by the masses bumping into them at every second.

They passed by two cargo galleons and one caravan before James ceased walking. He swirled around, seeing the confusion in the lord’s face before straightening his back, ready to give out some explanation.

There wasn’t much to see from where they stood, but the crowd made it difficult for them to get any closer. The townspeople screamed, some more than others, taking out all their anger from their lungs while throwing rotten vegetables or stones or anything handy. They had all one target, one direction they were aiming.

“You see that?” James pointed a finger to the giant wooden pole peeking out over the thousands of heads in front of them. Three sets of rope were hanging from the middle of the structure and a couple of people were standing in the wooden tier, conversing between themselves while two others were tied up, hands behind their backs, as the fight in their bodies washed away to nothingness.

“A hanging?”

“Indeed. The culprits today are two pirates from the same crew. They were caught trying to steal gunpowder from our vaults, and here they are.”

“And you think this is the right way to deal with thieves?” Lord Rogers blinked a few times, turning his head from the hanging to James.

“It doesn’t matter what _I_ think, my Lord. Look around you,” and just as he said that, the screams and shouts became louder, the anger increasing collectively as the pirates were manhandled in their positions, each now with a rope around their necks. “The people thrive for this.”

“Thrive?”

“ _Panem et circenses._ This is not different from the gladiators’ fights back in the Roman Empire, or the burning of witches in the Dark Ages. It keeps the public entertained, and if they are entertained, they don’t think about rebelling against the regime, they don’t think about revolutions.”

“And you agree with this.” Lord Rogers asked, his tone slightly strained.

“As I said before, my Lord, what I agree and don’t agree with makes no difference. This is the way things work.”

The lord hummed and stayed quiet throughout the rest of the hanging. James didn’t blame him for turning his face away the moment the floor beneath the pirates feet disappeared and they twitched as they choked to death, didn’t blame him from the tone of sadness that cracked in his face when the public cheered and celebrated as their lives left them.

For all that James loved the sea, this part never got easy.

###  **April 05th, 1715, Nassau**

“The crew was wondering where you went last night, Captain.”

“The crew or you, Sam?” Bucky didn’t slow his pace as Sam joined him hastily to walk towards the Winter Soldier, floating greater than all the other ships around the bay. The last repairs on his ship were done, and now they only needed to fill it up with the last supplies and they were ready to set sail towards the Spanish gold.

Bucky’s skin was bubbling with anticipation. They finally knew where the gold lay unsupervised and they needed to act quickly before other pirates discovered its whereabouts — or worse, the Spanish navy found out the gold went missing.

“Touché, Captain,” Sam smirked, and Bucky wanted nothing more than to punch that smug smile off of his face. “I’m only here to tell you there’s only one last barrel that needs to be lifted up, and then we are ready to go.”

“I’m impressed. You commanded them all to get ready before the time we planned on leaving?”

“Well, not really. Brock helped with rounding everyone back up from Nakia’s brothel, you know how their lot are crazy for a quick fuck before going back to the sea.”

Bucky’s lips frowned at the mention of Brock. He was a rebellious pawn in the midst of his crew, and Bucky hated not being in total control. He knew that man would only cause him trouble in the future, but there was nothing he could do about. The crew loved Brock just as much they respected Bucky.

Sam noticed his mood change easily. He squinted at James and tilted his head to the side.

“You don’t need to trust Brock to have him on your crew, you know that, right?”

James hummed, trying to calm his nerves and ignore Sam the best he could. The crew became visible to them now, still far away on the boats that were afloat beneath the Winter Soldier. Amongst his men was Brock, helping up the last barrel and giving orders like he was born to do it. Something dark curled on Bucky’s chest.

“Rumor has it that you tried to kill him before, didn’t you?” Sam asked, voice almost a whisper as they entered their own boat to get to the ship.

Bucky tsked and shoved Sam away, and his second in command almost fell on the water. Bucky didn’t have time for this; he needed to get ready for their grand mission.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!!! So I'll be updating every monday and thursday! I might have forgotten to say that before hehe, my bad.  
> Enjoy!!

###  **July 06th, 1704, London**

The box he carried shouldn’t have been as heavy as it was. Really, how were loose pieces of paper so heavy it made him breathless? James set it down next to the other boxes with a huff. He sat on the cardboard, partially out of revenge (because who was the one under a lot of pressure now?), and partially because the midday sun was getting to him.

He wiped his forehead clean of sweat with the back of his hand and sighed, he should have tied his hair, at least. It was getting too long for summer, anyways. The dragonflies were flying free that morning at the docks, further proving the ridiculous warmth of the day. He was only wearing his white undershirt rolled up to his elbows and simple pants. It wasn’t really the navy’s uniform, but it was his day off, so he was in the docks helping a friend to supply his ship faster.

Yet now he was regretting accepting the request. 

There was a soft nudge on his right shoulder and he looked up to see a young cadet who looked too small in his newish uniform. James raised his eyebrow in question and the man promptly spoke.

“Sir, there’s someone here to see you in that carriage.” The young boy pointed at the large, black carriage at the street ahead of him. The driver opened the door, but the inside was too dark for him to see with his eyes already adjusted to the glaring sun.

“Thank you,” James said to the cadet. “Tell Lieutenant Jefferds that I finished my part with the supplies. Dismissed.” 

The cadet bowed and went on his way and James eyed the carriage. He hoped whoever was inside wouldn’t find his clothing, or lack of thereof, offensive and walked towards the open door.

“Lieutenant James Barnes, a pleasure to meet you,” the man inside the cabin said, once James was sitting on the opposite bench from him. With only a glance at the man, James could already tell who it was. He was refined, his black goatee perfectly trimmed and complementing his delicate features nicely, specially his widow’s peak. His coat was made of the finest Indian cotton James had ever seen. It was of a vibrant red which looked soft to the touch, and the buttons a bright gold that shone at every flash of light that somehow managed to pass through the covered windows. And with only a look, James could tell this fit the man perfectly.

James’ throat closed when those brown, sharp, intelligent eyes met his. He was far too naked in only his undershirt and breeches for this meeting.

“Lord Anthony Stark,” he tried to conceal his surprise and fumbled a reverence, but the space between their seats was too small, and he ended with his face right between Lord Anthony’s legs. The lord chuckled, and with two fingers set on James’ chin, he delicately pulled the officer’s head back up. James didn’t know if the embarrassment was what made him blush, or if it were the fingers caressing his chin. He straightened his back and tried to control his emotions back to normal as the fingers left his skin.

“None of that, James, I’m here as an equal, not a lord.” Lor— _ Anthony _ —said calmly, “You are the newest friend of my…” he stopped, trying to find the appropriate word, “close  _ friend.” _

Indeed, James had become quite fond of their mutual friend, Lord Rogers. Although James knew Anthony’s and Lord Rogers’ relationship ran deeper than a simple friendship. What James heard were only rumors that ran wild in the high society, of course, but James prided himself on figuring out when a person was like him or not.

And of course, the nobility clearly knew about the lords’ relationship, but decided to stay quiet. When you had influential parents like the young lords had, it was easy to dismiss a few details here and there in order to keep the status quo.

James smothered the twinge of unfairness that grew with that knowledge. If he was the one found with a male lover, they wouldn’t so much as bother with a  _ rest in peace _ before hanging him.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” James asked. The carriage had started to move a couple of minutes ago, shaking at the uneven pavement they moved through. 

Anthony’s smile grew wider, and James refrained from gulping. The lord’s posture was flirtatious, inviting even. James couldn’t help but notice the way Anthony’s legs parted by a few inches.

“He’s been talking a  _ lot _ about you, so I had to meet the man myself,” he winked.

“Oh,” James said cleverly. He blushed, be it the wink, or the fact that Lord Rogers was  _ talking _ about him to Anthony, he didn’t care. James was spiraling down and fast. He cleared his throat and pretended Anthony wasn’t affecting him as much as he was. “I hope he said good things?”

“The best, you don’t have to worry about that.” His smile was reassuring, “Listen,” and the lord crossed his legs, “I know sometimes Steve says somethings that sound too implausible to believe…”

“Like how he believes he will be able to get Nassau back?” James smiled fondly at that. His friend still believed he could do it. It was… well, it was very endearing. Anthony was smiling at him when he looked up.

“Precisely. I know sometimes his ideas are too scandalous for us to accept at first, I’ve been there myself. Shocking, I know,” that got a chuckle from James, “but his optimistic views and forward thinking is what moves us.”

James nodded. He indeed agreed with Anthony; if more people were as open and as modern as Lord Rogers, things would be far better. Yet…

“I still believe he imagines too much happening in a short period of time.” James scoffed, “People hate change.”

“And that is why you are so important to him. He can make you see his points, because you see where he goes with them, but you also have a strong foot in reality.” Anthony squeezed James’ knee, “You balance each other out.”

James looked intently at the hand on his knee, and kept looking even when it withdrew, leaving only the warmth of Anthony’s touch behind. He blinked, brain catching up with what was said.

“Where do you fall in this equation?”

Anthony sat back and smirked.

“I’m the moral support, of course. The piece that holds it all together and prevents it from falling apart.”

James hummed. Maybe Anthony was right, they would clearly make a lot more progress with three heads thinking about it instead of two, and he couldn’t truthfully say he minded Anthony’s presence, either. 

Anthony peeked through the black curtain.

“Have you had lunch yet, James?”

“No, I have not,” and now that he thought about it, the last time he ate was in the early hours of the morning.

“What do you say about joining Steve and me for lunch?”

James’ mouth fell in surprise. He looked down at his simple underclothes and back at Anthony, who didn’t seem to mind in the slightest that James wasn’t properly dressed.

“I couldn’t possibly.”

Anthony waved a hand dismissively, “We can find some clothes for you inside our residence, but I nor Steve  _ mind _ how you look.”

James blushed again and only managed to nod in response.

###  **April 28th, 1715, Winter Soldier**

The outside was too quiet. He didn’t like it.

He tapped incessantly on his wooden table, looking at the closed door of his office intensely. Whatever Brock was up to, Bucky was sure it would blow up in everyone’s face. He was a brute, not a leader.

The air of his ship had been tense ever since they sat sail. His crew was torn in two: those who were loyal to Bucky and those who agreed with Brock. And Sam, but Sam had his own side, and right now what mattered was that his interests were lining up with Bucky’s.

Sam had approached him that evening, right before the sun set over the ocean’s horizon. He didn’t sound worried, maybe somewhat annoyed. He leaned against the ship’s side, right next to where Bucky had been not so secretly admiring the vastness of the waters. He worn a frown, so no one would see the soft side inside of him, of course.

“He’ll try to kill you and take over the ship, maybe even before you secure us the gold.” 

Bucky glanced at Sam by the corner of his eyes before looking straight ahead once more. He sighed.

“I know.”

He felt more than saw Sam’s eyebrow shooting up. That man was easy to read.

“So? Aren’t you going to do anything about it?”

“I don’t need to, my men will get over this mutiny in no time.”

Bucky shot a glance at the rest of his crew, watching as they murmured Brock’s vile words around. Some, when they noticed Bucky watching, would turn their heads down, flinching like they just got burned. Those Bucky didn’t have to worry about.

Instead, he worried about the crew members who stared back with their jaws clenched and fire in their eyes. Those were the ones Brock had gotten inside their minds. They weren’t much, but Bucky hated that he would have to kill them if things escalated.

He would lose too many spares.

So he waited. But he couldn’t sleep. He sat on his chair in his office, looking straight ahead, tapping his fingers down the table with one hand and holding his dagger with the other. There was no way to know when they would attack, nor what their attack would be, so Bucky needed to be watchful at all times.

Especially at night. Especially at this mortal quietness.

Normally Bucky could hear the shouts and the chants coming from the lower decks, but that night all was silent. Not a single voice loud enough for him to catch. They were plotting something, he knew.

Dinner time had been the most tense he had ever participated, when he entered the room silence fell like all the oxygen in the room had been sucked away. It felt as if every step he took was one closer to his doom, and the mournful expressions in some of his crew members went with it.

But he held his head high. He was Captain Bucky of the Winter Soldier. Survivor of more than one attempt in his life. These pirates were nothing in comparison to what he had gone through in the past, not even close.

And really, in the end, those who opposed were better off gone.

His eyes had briefly connected with Brock’s, and something dark shone in his eyes. Something Bucky was ready to erase.

-

Morning came. Light was streaming through the window panes impersonally, hitting his face with unmemorable heat. Bucky had managed to sleep for a few hours at time, waking up to check if all the entrances to his office were just like he had left them. Tony would be ready to tell him he was being paranoid, but Bucky knew these kinds of betrayals and sneak attacks were all too common on the sea. He had even partaken some before, so no double-check was too much.

The air was chilly when he decided it was finally time he stepped out of his stern to face his crew. To face Brock. Just in case things got out of hand, he slipped his dagger in his boots, sheathed his swords around his waist and one pistol on the leather strap dangling diagonally over his chest before putting on his dark blue coat and opening the door. It wasn’t far from his day to day weapons of choice, so there wouldn’t be many suspicious glances towards him, but he had hidden away his most precious weapons out of sight, just in case.

The crew was clearly split in two. Those who had nothing to do with Brock’s mutiny were doing their jobs, taking care of the masts, checking if the riggings were in place and dragging some barrels around. But those with Brock…

There were about a dozen people on the main deck, looking as Bucky closed the door behind him. All seemed tense, ready for action, and Bucky tried really hard not to give anything off. He couldn’t show them any sight of weakness, lest he wanted them to belittle him more than they were already. Brock was right in the middle, leading the small mutiny. He had his arms crossed around his front, chest puffing out like a proud tiger.

He sneered at Bucky, his crooked nose wrinkling as he stepped closer to the stairs that would take him where Bucky and the helm stood. Brock tilted his head up, disgusted frown in face, and Bucky stifled a sigh. How he wished he could be done with this already.

“Good morning, Brock,” he said, loud enough for everyone on the ship to hear, “Go back to your post.”

Brock didn’t flinch. He stood still, daring to look Bucky in the eye and confront him.

“No.” He sounded cockier than usual, and the urge to roll his eyes was almost too much for Bucky to resist. He already knew how this would end, and frankly, he was both grateful and not that he chose to hide his best weapons earlier. Brock spoke again, now with a victorious smirk ripping through his face, “Boys, take him to the brig.”

Bucky resisted the urge to sink his swords into these men’s chests, or at least give them a good punch on their mouth. The patience would pay off, it always did.

The brute smiled and laughed, “So weak you won’t even fight back.” He patted one of his dirty hands on Bucky’s shoulders and his collected façade slipped. Bucky spat, aim exact as his spit hit Brock’s right cheek and eye.

Bucky had the last laugh.

-

“You’d have won if you fought,” Sam said when he came to visit Bucky in the brig. Bucky cracked one eye open and looked at his first mate on the other side of the cell. He was suddenly glad for his friendship with Sam. It was easy to trust someone when you knew where their trust lied, and Sam had always been clear that he only ever cared for himself.

Bucky didn’t judge, really, he couldn't. He wasn’t so far behind.

“This will pay off.” Bucky closed his eyes again. “Where did they put my weapons?”

“Second deck, near the sleeping quarters. Here—” Sam slid a plate under the bars. A piece of hardened bread and some washed stew. “Had to save some for you, they told the cook not to bring you any food.”

“Thank you.” He chewed the bread with some difficulty, too stale to be truly appetizing, but it was better than nothing.

“Don’t thank me. I need you very much alive if we are getting out of this shit.”

Sam lifted up from his crouching position and left Bucky alone again. As soon as the door closed, Bucky let the bread fall on his stew and closed his eyes. He ran his hands over his short hair, messing its already messy locks, and took a deep breath. He needed to meditate, to keep calm. His plan of taking control back on his ship was already mostly thought through, but he had to be extra careful.

He needed that Spanish gold more than anything in his life. This is what he had been building up for the last ten years. This was  _ it, _ and he wouldn’t let some brainless savage take over his ship when he had everything he needed just at arm’s reach. He couldn’t let Tony down, it wasn’t an option.

So he sat, going over his plan for the seventh time, revising every detail, every personality involved for this to go right. The dagger inside his boot seemed to burn with anticipation, begging him to be used. But he couldn’t, not yet. Although slicing Brock’s throat open with his dagger would satisfy a darker part of him, he would lose the trust of his crew, and he couldn’t bargain that, not when he still didn’t have that money.

The plan would be simple, no need to complicate things. Bucky just needed to rile the right people up, create ruckus and disorder and he would take his place as the captain again. Maybe shame Brock while at it, there was no reason why not to enjoy himself, even a little.

But his plans were cut short when he heard shouting coming from the main deck. Bucky had completely lost his sense of time, he didn’t know how long he had been in the cells, but it couldn’t have been more than a day. He had given more credit to Brock than he deserved, if the crew was already quarreling amongst themselves.

Sure, he had seen how tense some of his men were as he was escorted down to the brig, but this seemed a bit too much. He knew not to trust most of them, just like they wouldn’t rely on him if the situation wasn't dire. It was a mutual untrust that kept them together.

The ship trembled to its core then, cracking noise cutting right through the air all around him, making Bucky jump to his feet, dagger already in hand.

This was no quarrel. Something was happening upstairs. Bucky made quick work on the lock with his dagger and freed himself from the brig, sprinting from the cells to the sleeping quarters, where he found both his swords and gun laying around unguarded. He put the dagger back on its place, sheathed one of his swords, keeping the other one in hand, adjusted the gun in his coat, and made a quick way to the hatch leading to the outside. Bucky lost his balance only once while climbing the wooden steps, having to hold on the ceiling not to fall as his ship shook again. Bucky cursed under his breath and opened the hatch over his head.

“What’s going on?” he shouted as he looked around his ship to access the issues. His men were running around uneasily, as they filled up cannons with powder and cannonballs, all heads turned to an enemy ship coming from their right.

Some of the crew stopped on their tracks to look wide eyed at Bucky as he marched with a dreadful strut to the helm where Brock and the sailing master, Happy, were having a shouting match, discussing something or another. Brock didn’t notice Bucky approaching until it was too late for him, and Bucky was already shoving him to the ground violently.

“What have you  _ done?” _ Bucky asked, letting all his anger out at the other pirate.

“What every man in this ship wanted. A raid.” Brock smiled wickedly on the ground, as if he hadn’t just fucked everything Bucky had been working so hard to accomplish. Bucky kicked him right under his ribs, face morphing with disgust as Brock contorted on the ground, white shirt riding up from where it was tucked inside his pants. 

“You’re so fucking brainless!” Bucky shouted and pointed his sword to the man’s neck so he would stay in place. “That’s a Spanish pirate ship, if they get close enough, if they get  _ in my ship,  _ and they find my records, we might lose our only chance to get to the gold before anyone else.”

Their conversation was cut short when another enemy cannonball scrapped over the bow. Wooden pieces flew around everywhere, and his crew hunched down for protection. Fuck. His grip tightened on the handle of his sword, his knuckles white with the strain. He had no time to deal with Brock at the moment. Bucky didn’t want to kill him, not now at least, it would only give his cause more reason. He didn’t need some kind of dead martyr around his ship, at least not until he had the right resources, at least he got the gold.

“You two,” Bucky pointed at two of his men he knew were still loyal to him. They both shot straight and looked at Bucky with a mix of fear and devotion, “Tie him and keep him out of the way. I’m taking the ship back.”

They nodded and promptly did as told. Brock was a bulky man, it wasn’t going to be easy to keep him down, but Bucky still had his sword to his neck, so he didn’t struggle as much.

Once Brock was tied down and off of his list of things to deal with at the moment, he could finally turn his attention completely to the battle happening around him. He broadened his shoulders, adjusted his coat, sheathed his sword, and directed to all his men.

“I know many of you weren’t expecting a fight here today, I know I wasn’t. But because  _ someone _ decided to take action into his hands, here we are, fighting Spanish pirates. They cannot know where we are going, cannot get a hold on  _ our  _ gold! We  _ earned it! _ After everything we went through, we can’t lose now. We have to sink that ship!” That was by far one of his worst speeches, but it will have to make do for the time being.

The crew was still a bit unsure under whose orders they were following. Some hesitated before shouting and doing as Bucky told them, and others were still confused with his presence on the main deck, but it wasn’t time to discuss mutiny right now.

“ _ We  _ are on the same side. It’s  _ us _ against  _ them _ .” he pointed sharply to the still approaching enemy ship.

As if on cue, another cannonball crashed into the Winter Soldier’s side again, cutting through air like it was nothing. Thankfully, their shots hadn’t yet taken any important part of his ship, but it was only a matter of time. It seemed this was enough to get the men moving again, at least, following his orders as he shouted at them.

The two o’clock sun was dizzying, and Bucky did everything not to lose his focus on the enemy. His eyes sharpened as he calculated their next moves, the possibilities and the amount of ammo that they might have still.

Their ship was about the Winter Soldier’s size, but it was slower. It had a giant hole on the mainsail, which indicated they had encountered other enemies on their way here, and probably won, if they were still sailing. Their ammo must be running low, then, so maybe they were trying to scare Bucky away with the last of their supplies.

He smirked. This was going to be an easy win.

-

The dining deck was bursting with victorious dances and songs that night. Rum was running free, and so was the best piece of meat their cook had stocked for an event such as this. Bucky was with them, smiling and singing a few shanties. If he wanted his men to still follow him after dawn, he had to mix with them for a while, make them remember why he was their captain, why they followed  _ his _ orders.

They had managed to win that fight early that afternoon with little to no effort. His predictions had been right, and the enemy ship sunk with just the faintest of nudges from them. The crew shouted victoriously after that, helped the injury back to the surgeon’s quarters and cleaned the little mess that was made.

The men who managed to enter the enemy ship and steal their valuable cargo before they sunk it were now heroes dancing in the middle of a circle with their mates. In between it all, it took Bucky more than it normally would to notice the lone shadow sitting by itself at an empty table.

“Where did you hide this time around?” Bucky said good-naturedly, as he sat down on the table in the far corner of the room. Sam was sitting alone, a mug full of rum in hand as he looked at the commemoration with a faraway expression.

“Under the cook’s table.” Sam admitted with a shrug. Bucky let out a breathy laugh and shook his head.

“One of these days you’ve got to let me teach you how to fight. At least to defend yourself.”

Sam frowned. “You know I don’t want to be a pirate.”

“None of us wanted either. Or do you think we all lined up excitedly to join any crew?” Sam shook his head, looking down at the table. “We just all fell through the cracks, and I believe you did too.”

“How did that happen to you? You don’t act like the other pirates.” Sam squinted and tilted his head to the side, as if he stared at Bucky long enough he would learn all his secrets.

His mood soured. Bucky gave it a few beats before standing up and patting Sam a little too strongly on the back.

“Get some rest. Tomorrow’s the big day.” he said before leaving for his quarters.

_ Big day, _ he thought again as he shook off his coat and hung it on his chair. The gold was so close he could practically feel its weight on his hands. Finally he had it, he could feel his revenge nearing with every sway of his ship.

He and Tony would finally be able to rest.

The shouts and festivities were nothing more than a muffled murmur on the back of his head now. He laid down on his hammock and closed his eyes. Today had been a wild day, his bones were sore and he wanted nothing more than a warm bath, but it will be all worth it tomorrow.

Yet, he woke up with a nag on the back of his mind that something was wrong. He tried shaking it off, getting a book from his shelf to read, but it didn’t distract him. His legs were shaking anxiously by the time the ship anchored on shore.

He was about to get up from his seat when a knock came from his door. He grunted a permission to enter and freezed. By the looks of Sam’s face as he entered the room, something went wrong. Something went very wrong.

“I don’t think you’re going to like this.”

He marched outside, white rage coursing through him as he tried to deny all possibilities that were rising his mind. This wasn’t happening, not right now. It  _ couldn’t _ be.

Along the ship’s side, a few of his men stood, all leaning out for a better look at the white sandy shores of the inhabited island that should have been filled with golden coins and chests with diamonds and everything Bucky had needed. He joined his men, grateful they opened way for him, because he knew that he would have shoved them away in the contrary.

“Spyglass,” he ordered, and the object came to his hand before he had to ask again.

Empty. The beach was empty. His jaw clenched.

“Fuck!”

###  **January 15th, 1705, London**

If you had asked James five months ago if he could one day see himself joining a battle that had already been lost, he would have laughed and said ‘I’m always on the right side of a fight.’

_ Now… _ well. Things change.

“We are going to need more ships and commoners to move down to Nassau, sir, if we want our plan to succeed.”

“ _ James, _ please, call me Steve,” Lord Rogers said gently, as he leaned against the dark wooden table of his office, facing both him and Tony, “we’ve been friends for what? A couple of months? There shouldn’t be titles between us anymore.”

His smile was captivating, James couldn’t stop staring. And it wasn’t just his smile, no. Everything about this man was perfect. From his slightly posh accent to his clear eyes and the purity in his actions. Steve wasn’t wearing his wig this afternoon, he never did in his residence, and it made him look more like an approachable person.

It didn’t help that the winter sun rays coming from the window reflected on his hair like a flaming halo. The curtains had been drawn when James arrived, but Steve personally opened them before they started every meeting. It was a blinding experience. 

He couldn’t say less about Tony, either. He didn’t have Steve’s blond hair, but his pitch dark curls absorbed all the light around it, making James’ eyes drift to it like moths drift to fire, like a lighthouse for his gaze. And don’t get him started on those eyes. Sweet as honey, deep and full of expressions that could entrap Bucky like sirens did to men.

He didn’t want to know how his own person looked, to be honest. His hair tightly tied in a ponytail, wasn’t as dark as Anthony’s, so it hardly had that same effect.And he was on duty, so there was nothing fashionable or pretty about the uniform he wore. Yes, the navy blue was a nice color, and he’d already heard before that it accentuated his eyes, but those were nothing in comparison to the clothes his friends wore.

Even in the confines of their own house (actually the Rogers residence, Tony just spent all his time here), they still dressed with what James was sure was the most expensive clothes he had ever laid eyes upon. So much silk, so many vibrant colors, it was downright distracting.

Steve was again wearing his favorite azure justaucorps, the same one he wore the time they met at the park. It was just as beautiful as James remembered. Tony, on the other hand, decided to wear a purple waistcoat, a perfect match to his coat, but he had tossed it carelessly on the back of his armchair when he arrived.

“James?” 

It was only when he heard his name that he noticed he had spaced out and anything that the man had just spoken went right through his head. He blushed faintly, but the redness on his face only grew when his gaze fell on Tony sitting next to him. The man was smiling at him, smug and knowing, and his eyes were sharp, like the ones of a fox that has finally caught its prey.

“Say again?” Bucky did his best to ignore that look and turned back to Steve, even if his face felt hot to the touch.

“I was saying that we should revisit the issue we’ve been avoiding all this time.” And oh, Bucky relaxed. Nothing on Steve’s posture indicated that he caught on to James’ admiration.

“Pirates, si-uh, Steve?” he corrected himself, and the appreciative smile Steve gave him for that was almost too much for his heart to handle at the moment.

Steve nodded. He took a sip of his tea before resting the cup down on the saucer with a delicate click that only fine, expensive china made. His eyes were burning with confidence now, something that James learned both to admire and be cautious about.

“I was thinking we could give them all amnesty letters.”

James blinked surprised, and for a few beats, the only sound in the room was of the staff moving around on the other side of the door. He looked at Tony again, but the man’s face didn’t give any indication that he was hearing this for the first time like James.

They must have talked about this before meeting with him then. 

“You must be joking.” James raised his eyebrows, waiting for Steve to laugh, shake his head, and say he couldn’t believe James fell for that.

But that never came. Steve still looked at him expectantly, ready to refute whatever argument James might have. He knew Steve enough to know when he already lost. But he could still try.

“They are  _ pirates, _ Steve. Merciless people!” He sat straighter on his armchair. “You can’t possibly think they will all accept forgiveness from the queen and join society with a snap of our fingers.”

“Of course not, James, this will take time.” 

“How many men are we going to lose trying to get them all to accept our pardon? What if they come for you?” For some reason, the thought of losing Steve was too dreadful to think about.

“They won’t. We’ll go to them peacefully.” Steve clenched his jaw and crossed his arms. He too seemed to be losing his patience.

“They don’t know peace.” James shook his head. He had forgotten how stubborn this man really was, “What if they don’t want to be pardoned, anyway?”

“You don’t know that, you aren’t one yourself. Your life is easy compared to theirs, don’t you agree? Perhaps a pardon is all they need.”

“My life is easy? You, Lord Steven Grant Rogers, telling me my life is easy?” James creased his brow. He felt affronted, all of a sudden, not knowing where that comment came from.

“ _ Gentlemen,” _ Tony said, cutting Steve before the blond could open his mouth. Tony put a reassuring hand on James’ knee, which grounded him more than he would ever admit—and no one could blame him if the blush came back to his cheeks, because  _ Tony was touching his knee _ . Tony and Steve seemed to be in some kind of silent discussion while James calmed himself.

Endearing really, to get to know someone so well you didn’t even need words to speak. James admired that in them, just like he admired most everything about them.

James couldn’t tell when it was that he first realized he became infatuated by these men. Maybe it was Tony’s boldness, or Steve’s braveness. Or maybe the fact that they acted the closest they could to their true selves that inspired James to try to do the same. Of course, on a smaller scale.

In the end it didn’t matter how he got to the place he was, all that mattered was that they became important to him. He hadn’t cared so much about other people in a long time, and it was a nice change. Even if they would never get to find out about his affection, it didn’t matter. Knowing himself was enough already.

By the small, defeated nod Steve gave Tony, it seemed like the brunet won this staring round.

“Apologies, James. Sometimes my ideas blind me from the truth,” Steve grimaced, “in theory, they should work. But ‘in  _ theory’ _ is not how the world spins, and that’s why you joined us in the first place.” He closed the distance between them and rested a hand over James’ shoulder. The hard material of his navy uniform couldn’t have been comfortable against his hand, but Steve didn’t seem phased by it. “I’m sorry for dismissing your opinions.”

James shook his head, dragging his eyes from the soft, scarless hand on his shoulder to Steve’s face. He looked genuinely displeased with himself, and James relaxed from his previous defensiveness, wanting nothing more than to take that expression away from his face.

“I should be the one apologizing, Steve,” he started, “It was rude of me to react to your proposition the way I did. You were just defending your idea.”

Steve smiled, tired yet still genuine. “I’m sorry nonetheless. You’re a good friend, and you deserve more.”

_ I have all I want right here, _ he thought saying, but clammed up before he could accidentally do so. It wasn’t his place to say any of that. So he nodded, gave the lord a genuine smile of his own.

“I’m so glad that you managed to kiss and make up so quickly.” Tony said, and Bucky almost jumped off his seat. Tony had suddenly shortened the distance between them, James could almost sense the warmth coming off of Tony. His heart was pounding, he was closer than he had ever been to both of them, and it didn’t seem like they minded it, on the contrary, they personally chose to be this close.

James silently wished to the stars he could treasure this moment forever.

###  **May 21th, 1715, Nassau**

It was Brock’s fault.

James looked at the man on the other side of his ship. He was still tied, now to a mast. He wanted the man close, if he kept him on the brig he could find a way to escape. But here, on the main deck where Bucky had his eyes on him at every second, he was pinned to his place.

The crew was wary of him now, thankfully. Of course, Bucky helped with that.

As soon as he managed to get over the fact that someone stole  _ his _ gold, he didn’t waste time before putting the blame on Brock. 

“This was the man that delayed us on our mission for an entire day! First the mutiny and then the raid? Took us an entire afternoon, precious  _ hours _ that we lost fighting the enemy. Precious hours for another ship to steal it from us!”

The crew had grown agitated, angry even. He saw that his words worked its way to their brains, and he was glad for it. If he hadn’t managed to place the blame on Brock, it would all fall on his back, and since he was already on a bad spot, Bucky would have had a harder time convincing the men not to kill him.

But it wasn’t a problem anymore.

“I want this man out of my crew once we arrive in Nassau.” he said gravely. It was a final order, not one that dared questions.

The Caribbean island was quiet when they arrived, or perhaps Bucky was too focused on the storm he was bringing with him to care about the village as they crossed the bay. He wasn’t quiet as he entered the tavern, and as always, the rumbling of voices quietened down into nothingness when he stepped in.

The men around the tables looked pale and gulped in fear when they saw the chilly anger that rested on Bucky’s expression. They knew that their chances of surviving if they got in his way were even lower than normal, and Bucky thanked that no one seemed stupid enough to cross his path at that moment. He didn’t want to deal with any-bloody-body right now.

He climbed the wooden steps to the second floor, which creaked more than it normally did at the heaviness of his steps, and waited for Natasha to follow him. He had had one entire glass of wine before he heard the soft click of the door closing in place.

“You don’t seem eager to know what happened.” he said, following her with his eyes as she made a beeline towards her chair.

It wasn’t easy to work in—let alone own—a bar full of men that had little to no respect towards life when you were a woman, but Natasha was well-respected regardless. And if someone ever had second intentions towards her, she had a knife to their throats before they could even see it coming.

Bucky respected her. She was a strong ally. He wasn't sure that was still true anymore.

She poured more wine for Bucky and a glass for herself with a sigh, slumping her shoulders in defeat before she leaned on her chair. It was a hot day, warmer than usual, and even though she still wore her briefs, she had the first two buttons of her white shirt opened and the sleeves folded back to her elbows, making her leather bracelet a clear contrast from her pale skin.

Bucky wondered once again what someone like her was doing here, stuck on this island. But he knew Natasha’s parents were to blame, and it had never been a good topic to bring up near her, so he kept quiet.

“T’Challa has it.” she said, cutting the tense silence that had grown around them.

“T’Challa?” Bucky repeated, frowning. “M’Baku ex-first mate? He has a ship now?”

“You really should keep up with the news around the island.” She made a face at the bitter taste of the wine, “He’s been a captain for quite some time now.”

“So a new captain, just starting with his first crew, managed to sneak behind my back and steal all my treasure.”

Natasha studied Bucky’s eyes before nodding.

“He has Okoye as his second. The two of them when put together are unstoppable, you know that.”

“Fuck!” he growled, throwing the metal cup against the wall, watching as the wine tinted the old creamy wallpaper with dots of deep red. Natasha seemed unfazed as Bucky tried to slip back into his more calmer nature.

“Someone must have told them,” he forced out between his gritted teeth.

But the thing was, only some specific men from his tripulation knew the whereabouts of the treasure. Men he trusted more than he should, probably. Men who were going to get a huge portion of the money if they kept their mouth shut.

So in the end, who knew the location had been them, him… and Natasha.

“Had you, by any chance, told T’Challa and Okoye about the gold’s whereabouts?”

Natasha snorted, but there was no amusement in her eyes.

“Who do you take me for? Of course not, Bucky. We were in this together till the end.”

And Bucky trusted her, she didn’t lie to him. He rubbed his temples, weariness starting to drag him down. He could already feel a headache beating low on the back of his mind.

T’Challa. He stole his money. And someone from his crew gave away the information. Bucky was suddenly at a loss of what to do. He lost his footing, he was falling, and falling hard.

“What do we do next?” Natasha asked, swirling her goblet between her fingers, examining its content with much too much interest.

_ He had been so close. _

Bucky could already see the badly hidden disappointment on Tony’s face when he finally worked up the courage to tell him what happened.

Fuck. He only wanted to  _ fix  _ things, not mess it all up even further. A part of him wanted to storm into T’Challa’s camp and demand his treasure, maybe beg for half of it. This was so unfair. Bucky almost gave his life a couple of times to get the information he needed to find the lost treasure, the Spanish gold.

It was his sweat, his tears, his sleepless hours, his sore muscles that deserved the gold. Not T’Challa.

“I don’t know,” and as much as it hurt to admit, Bucky didn’t think there would ever be a ‘next’ for them. It was over.

“Don’t you give up on me, Bucky,” Natasha’s voice was slightly constricted. “The gold is hidden on the fort, being guarded by M’Baku’s men—”

“So we gotta fight both T’Challa’s  _ and  _ M’Baku’s crew to get to the treasure? And what then? Where are we going to protect it, if the fort is already home to another pirate crew?” he shook his head, resigned at last. “No, Nat. Not if we still want to see the end of the day.”

“I can get us in the fort, M’baku won’t notice.”

“They won’t stop until we are killed, you know that.” His eyes softened, sympathizing with her desperation. Bucky knew much was on the stake for her as well. She didn’t have a crew, but she owned the island. She was the one most pirate captains respected, if not all. They trusted her to get the job done, and she would be failing all of them. This would deal a bad blow to her image. “I’m sorry, Nat.”

Her face twinged with strong emotions, but she closed her eyes before any could concretize and took a deep breath, her raging red hair the only colorful thing about her that moment. Bucky knew she would turn this around, otherwise this wouldn’t be the Natasha Romanov he knew since he first got to the island ten years ago.

“We’ve got to find a way to get the money we need.” Her voice was absolute, her lips pursed. It was a shame that Nakia had broken up with her not even a month ago. He knew the concubine had been good to his friend in the past, and she would have helped Natasha through whatever she needed right now.

Nothing that Bucky could do. He sighed and stood up.

“I’ll see what I can do.” He nodded to her and gave her a semblance of a reassuring smile, “I’m sorry about the wine.”

-

Now, outside again, Bucky was lost. The fear of admitting to Tony he lost their only way out smothered his insides, and Bucky wanted to escape that. He just wanted to fall between Tony’s arms and forget.

Forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the time jumps aren't too confusing. They are both linear stories, the only difference is that they are intertwined.  
> Anyways, what do you think?? Poor Bucky, going to have to tell Tony the news all alone...  
> Thank you for reading <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand here we are again!!   
> Things are starting to get pretty heated for our boys, eh?  
>  **Note:** so I know there's a non-graphic sex tag on this fic, but this chapter actually has some explicit things going on. It's not the focus, nor important, so if you want you can jump some of that. What matters is what's going on on Jame's mind.  
> I really enjoyed writing this chapter, one of my favorite moments while writing this fic. I hope you guys enjoy it as well!! <3   
> Have fun!

###  **February 4th, 1705, London**

James wasn’t sure he should really be here.

Of course, Steve and Tony both invited him, and said it would be fine. It wouldn’t be the first time they would be dining together, but that had always been a relaxing ordeal. Just the three of them, sitting about and talking about nothing in particular. He loved those times. 

But today, the clicking of the silverware against the expensive porcelain sent chills down his spine. James had never had a more awkward dinner, and that was coming from someone who had a frequent set of dinners with Admiral Pierce.

Awkward wasn’t the right word, either. The air was tense, frozen in place as they all dined politely. Lord Joseph Rogers and Lord Howard Stark sat on the opposite end of the table from where Steve, Tony and himself sat. And even being far apart, having more than six other seats between them, James couldn’t relax. 

The lords seemed judgemental. James wouldn’t expect nothing less from two old members of the high society, but their stoic expressions had a hint of disgust James wasn’t enjoying. He knew that disgust wasn’t in fact directed toward him, as one would normally expect. In fact, it was turned to his friends.

_ Friends. _

His heart skipped a beat. A  _ friend _ shouldn’t be thinking about the way Tony’s Adam’s apple moved up and down every time he swallowed, or the way he absentmindedly licked his lips after the taste of the sauce that smudged them.

_ Nor _ would a friend focus on the way Steve’s slim, firm fingers held his cutlery, neither thinking about how he wanted those warm hands around him, caressing his flanks and thighs while James captured Tony’s mouth with his—

“So,” Lord Joseph Rogers said before cleaning his mouth elegantly with the napkin, splashing James’ arousing thoughts with a cold bucket of water, “I hope working side-by-side with my son hasn’t been too hard, Lieutenant.”

James straightened his back and cleared his throat, “Not at all, sir. Your son is most pleasurable to work with.”

The lord hummed and nodded, seeming to be deep in thought. James darted a quick glance to Steve’s direction and got reassured by a calming smile. Tony, on the other hand, was stiff as a rock.

“I wish the same could be said of my son,” Lord Howard Stark sighed, staring surely at Tony, not hiding his disappointment. He saw a flicker of emotion wash over Steve’s face, but the blond didn’t say anything, just kept eating his fillet mignon mechanically. Tony did the same, eating his food as though Lord Stark hadn’t said anything, if a little pale.

Tony and Steve might be used to this type of treatment, but James wasn’t, coming from a lord or not.

“Your son is most helpful, Lord Stark. We would be at a loss without him.” James smiled tight through his clenched jaw, hoping the lords didn’t notice the slight defensiveness on his voice.

Lord Stark blinked, mostly surprised James had the guts to answer his offhand comment, which James personally had found disgusting. Tony had mentioned a few days prior that his father was a handful, but this felt worse than Tony had put it would be.

“Very well. I’m glad to hear it. I feared he would end up…  _ distracting  _ rather than helping. Since he moved out of our residence to come live here, that’s all he’s been good at.”

James eyebrows shot up at the implications of Lord Stark’s words and he was ready to reply before he caught Tony’s pleading eyes on the other side of the table. He tensed, bit his lip, but let Lord Stark’s comment slip.

For Tony, he could let that pass. His hands still fisted tightly underneath the table. The food had a bland taste when he got around to eating again, but it didn’t stop the bitter taste rising to his mouth. Was this how Tony’s father usually treated him? This precious, delicate creature sitting next to him?

His eyes met Steve’s, and it was enough for James to be sure that, yes, that was indeed the case. And the worst part, it seemed to be a common thing.

Tony and Steve were used to this horrible harassment.

It made James blood boil, it really did. But it wasn’t his place to start a discussion, he didn’t have the right ranks,  _ he shouldn’t even be here. _

“What are the news to this little project of yours, son?” Lord Rogers spoke again, breaking in the silent with small, uninterested small talk. Although James knew, both lords were not expecting what was to be revealed. 

And that was why James thought he had been invited to the dinner, so the lords could meet the man helping their sons with their plans. Not that they believed their sons would be able to accomplish anything, if the faint amusement on their faces was anything to go by.

James wanted to punch something.

Steve put on an easy smile, not the real, personal one he gave them in their private meetings, nothing close to that. “There had been some improvements in our plan, yes.” Steve looked at Tony to James before speaking again, “We are working on how to solve the pirate problem.”

“Oh,” Lord Rogers sounded somewhat more interested now, “how would you solve it? I don’t think there are platforms enough to hang them all.”

“Hanging was never an option for us.” And James was glad they managed to discuss in length about the topic in the weeks that came before this. Both Steve and himself gave up on some views to get to an agreement that made them both happy. Of course, all mediated by Tony. And now they formed a plan that not only they knew would be difficult for some people to accept, but was what they thought would be the best choice. So Steve straightened his back, relaxed his shoulders and said, with all the patience in the world, “We will give them pardons”

The sound of cutlery falling suddenly against china was deafening on James’ ears, but so was the long stretch of silence that came after it. No one made a sound for the next thirty seconds and James counted the precise ticks of the wooden clock from the corner of the room. It felt like an eternity.

“That’s an absurd idea,” Lord Rogers’ voice cut through the dead air. “When will you kids grow up?” He massaged his temple, as if he had just heard his son painted the entire hall black.

“No, my friend, I’m sure Steven had nothing to do with this idea. I’ll have a talk with Anthony  _ later.” _ The sharp gaze full of hate and disgust Lord Stark threw at his son was enough for James to lose it.

He was probably going to lose his job too. Nor see either of Steve nor Tony ever again. Admiral Pierce would get so angry… but James had had it. He wouldn’t tolerate his friends getting scolded when they both were giving their all to achieve their goals.

James rose from his seat, ceasing all discussion from all around as he did so. His shoulders were tense and his hands tight behind his back. He didn’t want to see what would happen if he let his hands go free, not while he was already threatening everything he had with what he was about to say.

“Gentlemen,” and he was unmistakably referring to the lords, who were at a loss with what to do, “may I kindly ask for you to stop harassing my friends that way?” His lips twitched up in a tight smile, “The pardon project was an unanimous idea, so if you sirs would like to take your complaints to the Navy, please, be my guest. But if you plan on sitting here, spilling more hate on these poor men, I will have to ask you to leave,” and after a brief pause, he added “Thank you.”

The only thing both lords could do for the first couple of minutes after James’ burst of sincerity was to blink, dumbfounded, at him. James wanted to hide, and he would, if he didn’t want his statement to mean something. But no way he was letting this slide, not after he already opened his mouth.

The consequences be damned.

His words shocked them into silence, but after what felt like a trillion years, Lord Rogers cleared his throat, tilted his nose up and politely stood up.

“Good night, gentleman.” He didn’t dare look at James in the eyes anymore.

Lord Stark followed suit, exiting the dining room with a frown on his face. Nothing good would come of this, James knew. But at that moment, he didn’t care, he couldn’t care. 

He was so high from his little burst he forgot Steve and Tony were still in the room, only remembering when Tony breathed out ‘oh, James’ under his breath. His entire world freezed. His eyes widened and he felt trepidation growing from the tip of his extremities in a frenetic pace, until he could strongly hear the beating of his own heart. 

Now he  _ really  _ wanted to hide.

Steve rose in a blink of an eye, chair dragging against the expensive rug with a muffled scratch, and for a second, James was sure the chair would lose its balance and fall on the ground, making the whole scene even more awkward, but it didn’t.

His eyes tentatively met Steve’s, and those clear blue eyes were screaming with unspoken words, words that James wasn’t sure the meaning of, but he kept on staring. He couldn’t, now that he was prisoner to that gaze. The only thing he could do was stare back, with his own set of words stuck in his throat.

_ I’m sorry. Forgive my harshness. I did it for you two. I love you. _

Hours, maybe minutes—seconds, even, James held his breath, fearing any brusque movement would make this moment snap and he would be sent home by the people he most treasured. Slowly, he forced himself to breathe again, deep and steady, and blinked a couple of times, maintaining that same air of control he had when dealing with the lords.

Tony, not one to enjoy a terrible awkward silence, broke the ice with a long intake of breath. He stood by James’ side and yet—

His face was free from malice. There were no lines of anger, nor disappointment in his eyes. On the contrary… he looked calm, happy, even.

James frowned, confused. Why was Tony happy?

His question was answered a moment later when Tony closed the distance between them and pressed his soft lips against James’ own, who gasped against the kiss, shock overcoming his body as Tony closed his mouth over his again. One of Tony’s gentle hands came to steady James on his elbow, grasping it not strongly, but surely.

He parted too soon, and James wanted to object, but he was too stunned to properly react. Tony snorted as his eyes crinkled with a softness James rarely saw.

“I think I broke him, Steve.”

“What?” James asked breathlessly. He could feel his cheeks warming up as the seconds went by, especially since Tony was still throwing him a tender look. A quick swipe around the room told James they were alone, that there was no one else to witness this intimate moment aside from the three of them.

_ Three. _

James’ head snapped back to Steve, who wasn’t standing where he was a couple of minutes ago, no. He was shying behind Tony, looking at James from over his shoulder as if he was too afraid to get too close.

Steve gulped when he realized James was watching, and he quickly shot James a tiny smile.

“Can I?” he asked, clearly hesitating to move.

James nodded dazedly. He wasn’t sure exactly what he explicitly accepted, but if it was anything like what Tony surprised him with, James wanted it, craved it. So he waited, licking his lips with the anticipation of having a taste of the other pair of lips he had been daydreaming about for the last months.

Tony took a step away, yet didn’t let go of James’ arm, interlacing with his own instead. The act was sweet, James appreciated it. Made him feel part of whatever this was becoming, a part of them,  _ with _ them.

Steve closed the distance between them not unlike Tony had earlier, yet he was taller than James, so he had to tilt his head down for their kiss, which didn’t disappoint. For all his shyness to approach, Steve dominated the kiss, leaving James breathless and melting between the two men. 

Once they parted, James rested his forehead against Steve’s shoulder, catching his breath and with what just happened. But one thing became certain the moment Tony kissed him: for now on it was the three against the world.

###  **May 21th, 1715, Nassau**

The air was humid and warm in Nassau, even at night. The insects chirped and sang happily at the sun dawning, the noise growing louder the darker it got, and soon the mosquitoes would come out and they would draw blood from his exposed skin and they would leave.

There was nothing much on this side of the island aside from their house and wilderness. The church a few miles behind them, but that was it. Most of the population condensed near the port, but Bucky quite enjoyed the calmness Nature brought. His nerves appreciated it, especially now, with the newfound turn their plan took.

Bucky took a long intake of breath and leaned further against the wooden walls of their cottage. The front porch was wide enough he could stretch his legs as much as he wanted, and after spending days on the open seas, standing up most of the time and hoping no new blister would appear on his feet, this was a nice change.

It was also a good moment to cool down. There was no reason Bucky should enter their safe space with a chest full of anger and spoil Tony’s mood with it. The last thing he wanted was to make Tony even more miserable than Bucky knew he already was.

So he sat on the front porch, watching the sunset behind the bushes and tropical greens as his intense feelings quenched into cooling embers. Tony had someone with him inside the house, Bucky could tell by the soft, polite laugh, a trace he didn’t lose from the years living as one member of England’s high society.

Bucky closed his eyes and instantly, most of his tenseness left his body. He let Tony’s muffled voice, together with the guest’s lower tone, filter through his brain like a string of water coursing down a stream. His mind became blank, anger, rage, hate, anguish, guilt, everything that he metaphorically carried on his shoulders evaporated like a puddle underneath the sun on a hot summer day.

Bucky felt warm spreading through his chest, and for the first time since he could remember, he let his mind wander freely…

###  **February 4th, 1705, London**

They led James hand in hand to their shared rooms. His heart was pounding in his ears and he hoped neither of them felt how clammy his palms were. Anticipation was eating him from the inside out as every stride they took got them closer to their destination.

There was no interruption, no maid walking down the corridors. It was as if the mansion was asleep, or more likely, making sure they could have this night unperturbed.

“I still cannot believe you told my father off in his own house,” Steve said incredulously as he opened the huge white door to their quarters.

“Well.” James shrugged, embarrassment from the situation finally hitting him. But now that it was done, he just had to accept and move on, “You are an intelligent, kind person. No one should talk like that to you.”

Steve’s eyes fluttered momentarily closed as a tiny, pleasant smile bloomed on his lips. As if hearing those words was like trying a bite from the most delicious sugary cake. His hand squeezed James’ and pulled him into the room with no resistance from his part.

“That, uh,” he turned to Tony, who was practically glued to Jame’s sides, “That goes for you as well, Tony.” Tony’s eyebrows shot to his hairline, and James continued, “I know he’s your father but that man does not deserve that title. The way he treated you the entire night made my blood boil like nothing has done before. I wanted to punch him just for the way he stared at you.”

Tony’s breath hitched as he tried to force his saddened, surprised expression back to neutral, but it was easy to see that James’ words hit right on the head.

Instead of answering, Tony kissed him, more desperately than before. His hand found the back of James' neck and slid upwards, untying the band holding James’ wild hair from its ponytail. His long locks instantly fell free and Tony didn’t waste a second before digging both of his hands right into the mess of soft curls.

A few locks hit Tony’s cheek gently before they parted, and Tony didn’t think twice before tugging them behind James’ ears delicately.

Steve let a whine-like groan next to them and fiddled with the sleeves of his cotton coat. “You two look so perfect together, I’m not sure I’ll survive tonight.”

###  **May 21th, 1715, Nassau**

The sweet oscillations of voices from inside came quick to a stop, and the relaxed state Bucky found himself in, halted with it. His hearing became more attuned to the insides of the cottage as he slowly put his guard back on. The exchange was curt now, and Bucky couldn’t quite tell what was being said, but it sounded important.

There were footsteps coming his way, and the front door swung open next to him, revealing their neighbour priest still dressed in his work clothes, looking momentarily grave. The priest flinched when he saw Bucky sitting in the dark and he thought better than to say anything to the pirate. Instead, he looked back inside once—probably asking himself what business did sweet, kind Tony had with a pirate like Bucky—before retreating back to his church posthaste.

“You’re eavesdropping now, James?” Tony asked with a smile on his face which didn’t reach his eyes. Bucky frowned. Whatever the priest told Tony, it couldn’t be good. Bucky gave him his own saddened smile before standing up and brushing dirt off his blue coat.

“Not eavesdropping. Did you know your voice is as sweet as a lullaby?”

Tony’s smile grew more genuine. “I think I heard that before, yeah.”

Bucky kissed Tony for a long moment before parting, caressing Tony’s cheek tenderly with his calloused fingers.

“I have something to tell you, Tony.” as much as he dreaded this moment, Bucky was relieved to finally share with him.

His lover hummed, “I’ve got something as well. Here, come on in.”

###  **February 4th, 1705, London**

Layers and layers of clothes went flying to the floor, wrinkling up carelessly once they dropped it. James couldn’t tell the white shirts apart. Of course, if he got closer, felt the material between his fingers he would definitely be able to tell just by the softness of the fabric which were the lords’ clothes and which were his, but with the faint candlelit light and from his upper ground on their bed, Bucky couldn’t tell the difference.

And frankly, shirts and metaphors weren’t important at that moment.

James gasped as his back arched from the mattress. Both his hands were promptly grasping for dear life at the beautiful blond tufts of hair as Steve’s mouth swallowed him whole. It had always been a dream of James, ever since he saw that perfectly combed hair, to get it to stick in all different directions. He wanted to mess it up, make it less perfect. Make it raw.

But looking down at Steve with his hair ruffled to the roots with saliva and other fluids running down his cheeks in a sinful way, James realized Steve would never stop being perfect. James closed his eyes and bit down his lips when Steve sucked just the tip, doing his best to circle his tongue around the crown of his cock with enthusiasm.

“You’re so pretty like this, James,” Tony said from where his head was tucked on James’ neck, making James blush grow stronger. He nibbled and sucked on his skin, and James involuntarily tilted his head the other way to give Tony more space to work with.

Pretty… he couldn’t quite see that himself. In his perspective he was nothing more than a rough marine man with overgrown hair, who accidentally fell into a god’s den. Steve and Tony were so beautiful in every way of the word that James couldn’t fathom what they saw in him.

Tony smiled, the movement fluid and natural, giving his marble sculpted face a radiant lightness. It was intoxicating. If they let him, James would spend minutes, perhaps hours, studying every curve, every detail of these men’s bodies, followed suit by their captivating personalities.

He captured Tony’s lips, tentatively pushing his tongue inside the other man’s mouth, and melted when he found no resistance on the matter. Tony moaned as Steve wrapped a hand around his leaking cock and James swallowed every sound, rejoicing at the sweet music the three of them were creating.

When he felt his orgasm piling up, James gently pulled Steve away from his cock without any protest. The man sat on his heels, and James noticed by the corner of his eyes that he was intently looking at his two dark haired men lying on the bed still kissing lazily, and his eyes darkened with desire. Steve licked his puffed, reddened lips, and crawled over Tony so they were eye to eye.

James held his breath watching as they stared at each other. There was no need for words between Tony and Steve, their looks would always speak louder, and after all this time James spent together with them, he was learning to read every crease and every turn of their muscles, just like one learned another language.

They kissed, moving together with familiarity that made James gasp weakly. He had never seen them kissing before, not even as they had grown closer. But seeing it made James realize how right all of this really was, and what was it that this invitation truly meant to them. 

It wasn’t just a close friend thing, or a one time fling, no. Because if they were simply inviting James for a casual encounter, kissing in front of him wouldn’t have meant as much as it did. If they didn’t cherish this moment as much as James did, they would have tried thoughtlessly to get James to their bed a long time ago.

If it only meant a carnal desire… 

But this…

This was pure affection. Something that, dare he say, burned deeper than just lust. Something that matched James’ exact feelings for them.

There was a sudden lump of complicated feelings growing inside his throat, but he managed to blurt out, “You two are precious to me.”

If they were opening themselves to James, opening a space in their relationship for him, he could do the same to them. He  _ would _ do the same. For the exact same reason they did.

The kiss broke, and they turned to him in sync, both with expressions of love and devotion, both with lips peppering James’ skin and lightening it into flames, every kiss full of affection towards each other… towards James.

They invited him in because they loved him. James couldn’t ask for more.

###  **May 21th, 1715, Nassau**

The water from the pot was still burning hot when Tony poured them each a cup of tea. The simple black stuff, nothing fancy like the ones they used to drink back when times were different, but still just as enjoyable.

“Thanks.” Bucky sat across from Tony and with one hand cupped the china. His free hand reached out for Tony’s own, which didn’t hesitate before clasping the hands together. Bucky caressed those pristine knuckles with his thumb, remembering the first time their hands touched with that sparkle of something more than friendship.

But times change. Tony’s hands weren’t now of a noble lord, but of an average man living in between cracks, and Bucky would never forgive what they did to them. To Steve.

“You want to go first?” Tony asked, thankfully shutting that thread of thoughts from Bucky’s mind.

He nodded and smiled sadly. “I let you down, Tony. I lost the Spanish gold.”

Tony frowned, “What you mean lost it. Did it run away?”

“No.” Bucky chuckled humorlessly, “When I arrived at the destination, the gold wasn’t there anymore. T’Challa stole it first.” He looked down at the table, “I’m sorry.”

“James,” Tony’s voice was soft, “there was nothing you could have done. This was out of your grasp.”

Bucky blinked up at Tony and really took him in. The man was jittering on his chair, not looking as much sad or disappointed as Bucky had thought he would be, and his tea laid untouched.

Something was up.

“You don’t care that we don’t have the money anymore?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“It would certainly help our situation, yes… but… James,” their eyes met, “There’s something I have to tell you.”

Bucky observed his lover as he changed from nervous to set, and nodded, urging him to speak.

“Peter Parker was captured by pirates.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh shit!! New characters about to appear ô0ô!  
> Take that Howard and Joseph!! You are horrible fathers! James protecc his bfs.  
> So, what did you think!? Kudos and comments are always welcomed! See you on Thursday ;) <3


	4. Chapter 4

###  **April 20th, 1705, London**

James burrowed his head further against Tony’s collarbones and breathed out with a content sigh. It was now maybe the fifth time he spent the night with them. He’d come whenever his job gave him a break, which, unfortunately for them, wasn’t that frequent.

And the times he couldn’t stay more than a few hours, he’d be sure to make most of it, for his sake and theirs. It wasn’t always sexual. On the contrary, most times they would simply lounge around Steve’s office or the sitting room of their quarters and do just that: spend time together.

James thought he had known them pretty well before, but he was surprised to learn otherwise. For example, Steve’s favorite hobby was to draw or paint whatever caught his attention, which meant James and Tony were frequently asked to stay frozen in the same position for long periods of time, because, Steve would say, they were looking stunning and he wanted to capture the moment.

Tony, not so differently from Steve, loved to tinker around with small objects. Sometimes without even glancing down at his hands, Tony would be able to dissemble a set of very expensive looking pocket watches, and just as fast assemble them again. It was a smart hobbie of his, something to keep his hands going, it seemed. Tony was also a big cuddler. Whenever the three were alone, Tony was most likely to rest his head on Steve or James like it was the most natural thing to do. Sometimes James thought Tony didn’t even realize he did that.

It was all very endearing.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Tony mumbled on top of his hair, hugging James closer.

“Good morning,” he repeated, leaving a set of kisses on the exposed skin of Tony’s neck.

He smiled and closed his eyes when Tony began to talk about the things they had planned for James’ day off, moving his hand up and down James’ naked back.

“Did you know your voice is as sweet as a lullaby?” James blurted out, cutting Tony mid-phrase.

Tony let out a confused sound, “Am I boring you, is that it?”

James chuckled and drew himself a few inches back so he could see Tony eye to eye. “Of course not. Never.” He kissed his lover on the lips. “I just really like how your voice sounds.”

The blush on Tony’s face earned him another kiss from James. He would never get over how cute his lovers were sometimes.

Speaking of lovers…

“Where’s Steve?”

“He left earlier for a meeting with his father.” And by Tony’s grimace, that couldn’t mean anything good.

James cursed under his breath, “I hope he’s alright.”

“You and me both.”

-

It took another couple of hours for Steve to come back, and by the time he sagged on their living room chair, sighing and massaging his temple, both Tony and James were up and fully clothed.

“I take it went badly?” Tony asked, placing a reassuring hand on Steve’s tense shoulder. Steve, in turn, melted almost immediately at the touch and nodded in reply.

“Father is removing his support from our project, which means most of our funds are gone.” The way Steve’s voice sounded tight and constricted broke James’ heart.

“Oh,” Tony crouched down next to the chair, interlacing his fingers with Steve’s, “that _ is  _ horrible news.”

Steve nodded in agreement, “And in no time now the rest of the supporters will hear from this and will remove their money as well.”

“It’s my fault,” James cut in whatever Tony was about to say, surprising everyone in the room, even himself. Both sets of intelligent eyes turned to face him and James barely managed not to flinch.

“Why would you say that, James?” Steve asked, and James scoffed. They didn’t see it, did they?

“It was only a matter of time before this happened,” and when both still stared at him not comprehending, he continued, “They are boycotting you since I stood up on your behalf. Your fathers stopped visiting all together, and General Pierce told me they gave him a visit once to complain. This is bad,” he sat on a free armchair, carefully sitting as far away from them as possible, “and it’s all my fault. I’m sorry.”

James grimaced and closed his eyes. It was hard enough to admit his guilt to himself, now to admit it to others… He didn’t know how he would take their looks of dawning realization, nor their request for him to leave, when they finally saw he was spoiling their happiness.

But if he had to leave so they could still have a project, even a semblance of relationship with their respective fathers, he would.

“Oh, James, no,” Steve said, closing the distance between them. It was his turn to crouch, putting a hand over James’ thighs reassuringly as he gave the long-haired brunet a smile, “we knew it would get like this one point or the other, even if you hadn’t stood up for us. It was just a matter of time.”

“Steve’s right.” Tony crouched next to his other side, “They already didn’t enjoy knowing about my relationship with Steve, but that didn’t stop us before, and won’t stop us now. You joining in is just an excuse for them to start acting against us.”

“But i-if I leave they’ll stop, yes? I don’t—” he gulped dryly, “I don’t want things to get bad because of me.”

“Don’t,” Steve said, closing his eyes painfully. “This is not your fault. None of this is. There is no shame in loving who you love and acting upon it. We aren’t doing anything wrong.”

“We don’t want you to feel like you need to go, James,” Tony added, “This has nothing to do with you and everything to do with their grudge against us.”

James wasn’t so sure about that, still, but he trusted his lovers. So he squeezed both their hands, trying to convey through his touch the words he could not bring himself to say at that moment, and nodded.

“We might have to start looking for supporters in other places, then.”

-

They managed to fill a small room of the mansion with friends and acquaintances who were willing to listen. 

It wasn’t much, at least not from Steve’s and Tony’s perspective. But James thought that even if merely two or three of them listened, it would be enough.

They chatted amicably for the first part, sipping on their port wine with gusto while thanking everyone for coming, making small talk and moving on to the next. Both were exceptional hosts. All in all, James didn’t pay much attention, he was much more preoccupied thinking about the speech they were going to give.

Tony would offer him a tiny reassuring smile whenever their eyes met before mingling back amidst his guests, laughing with such naturality James guessed only someone born a lord had. Not that James envied that, mind you. He much prefered stay in his corner and leave the hosts and the guests to deal with the small talk.

The business talk started a little after everyone arrived. Steve cleared his throat and urged Tony and James to come stand next to him in front of the few rows of chairs where the guests sat. 

“Let me introduce you to Lieutenant James Barnes,” Steve lifted an elegant hand and gestured at James, who gave everyone in the room a single nod as acknowledgment, “As many of you may already know, myself and Lord Stark had been working together with the Lieutenant to restore the tropical island of Nassau, which at this moment, is under the pirates’ grasps.”

Someone cleared their throat in the second row. A short man lifted his stubby hand, Sir Thomas, if James remembered Tony saying correctly. He had an air of superiority all around him, which rubbed James up the wrong way.

Steve nodded for him to speak.

“If I may ask, what are the financial measures you will implant in the island once you finish off the pirates?”

And James held himself back from grimacing at the way he put it, and it seemed Steve was just as affected as him. ‘Finish off the pirates’ wasn’t going to happen and for a few moments, neither one of them knew how to respond.

Tony, of course, always seemed to know what to do in these moments. “If you prefer, we can discuss the financial details of the island after the meeting is done. We can give you a detailed explanation to what we have planned. As for the pirates... we have another plan for them.”

“What would that plan be?” another person asked, and James wasn’t sure where his voice came from. “Enslaving?” 

“No, nothing of sorts,” Steve shook his head delicately, finally recovering from the previous question and told them about the pardoning.

If anyone was shocked by that, no one showed it. Each and everyone of their guests were polite enough not to cause any ruckus while Steve talked about the amnesty and his other plans. But James could see that some of the guests were losing interest the more his speech went on, and he knew it was a lost cause when Steve ended it asking for their support and more than half of the people in the room excused themselves before leaving the room.

James hated seeing Steve so defeated, hated how his shoulders sagged and he looked down as his friends left, slowly emptying out the room. He wanted nothing more now than that all would leave them so he could slide his hand on Steve’s and squeeze it, to silently reassure him he wasn’t alone.

But one person stuck behind. He was still sitting on his chair, still sipping his liquor. He looked young, about their age, and he gave Steve a warm smile.

“How much do you need?”

Hope seemed to blossom back slowly on Steve’s face. He quickly composed himself and turned to James with a semblance of a smile on his lips.

“James, I’d like you to meet our friend, Lord Richard Parker.”

###  **May 21th, 1715, Nassau**

“Who is Peter Parker?”

Tony smiled tiredly at him and took a sip of his tea, “I don’t think you ever met him, I myself only met Peter a few times before, mostly at social gatherings. Although you met his father, Lord Richard Parker.”

“That name does ring a bell,” Bucky nodded, getting a few flashes of a kind, polite face, and tables full of all types of important documents.

“Steve’s and my friend that helped us in all ways he could, remember?” Tony didn’t wait for Bucky’ recognition before continuing, “I haven’t followed what’s been going on with him nor his family for the last few years, but I did hear he became governor of Carolina at some point. Maybe he can help us out.”

“Help us out how?” Bucky asked, fearing the answer.

Tony took his time before speaking again, swirling the liquid inside of his mug absentmindedly and when he spoke again, it was almost a whisper, “In any way, I’d say.”

Bucky stared at him, blinking every now and again. To accept all types of help,  _ any _ type of help, would mean accepting all his work up until that moment had been for nothing. He knew that even though Tony was a hundred percent with Bucky on their plan, Tony also had a secret longing for better accommodations. A better life, even. And he deserved it, after all.

Bucky hated seeing him so out of his comfort zone. Ten years wasn’t enough for Tony to ever get used to living in a place with only three rooms… and in reality, it didn’t suit him, not really. Bucky couldn’t wait for the moment where everything changed and they could finally rest in peace. Somewhere big, somewhere fit for Tony.

It was the only thing that managed to keep him standing some days, even if the concept of peace had changed for him throughout the years.

He couldn’t blame Tony for hoping Richard Parker would be their answer in all of this. He didn’t know what to expect, but maybe whatever the lord offered would be better than the things they had right now.

Maybe they could leave this, all of it: the ship, pirates, death. Leave it all behind and try something new, maybe try Tony’s plan, the plan he had had before Bucky had decided his own would work much better.

But did it? Ten years and nothing’s changed.

“I’ll need to ask around to know who has the kid.”

Tony’s eyes shone with newfound joy as Bucky agreed with his plan, his smile just as bright.

“Thank you, James,” he squeezed their hands together, but slowly his expression became serious again, “One more thing. Take me with you, please.”

-

“Stay out here, don’t look people in the eyes.”

Tony batted Bucky’s hand, which was hovering protectively over his shoulder, away and tsked.

“I’ve come to these streets a few times before, I can handle it.”

Bucky snorted, mind taking him back to a few moments before they left the safety of their little hut. Tony was wearing an outfit that, even though for the man it was nothing more than simple unsuspecting clothes, it clearly screamed nobility to the eyes of random pirates, and they couldn’t do it if Tony was to be sacked in the middle of an open alleway.

Now, after Bucky went through the entire closet, he wore something a lot more inconspicuous beige and a lot less striking blue. Tony, of course, complained the entire time until Bucky told him, with a smile on his face, that he wouldn’t be taking Tony anywhere if he weren’t using these clothes. He clammed up with a  _ harumph _ .

“I’ll be quick. If you see something strange—”

“Yes, I know what to do,  _ Captain _ .” Tony cut him sharp and with a roll of his eyes, but it did nothing to hide the excitement from his figure. Indeed, Bucky could relate to that feeling.

It was going to be the first time after ten years that they’d be leaving the island together. They normally avoided being seen together, but maybe Bucky was tired of being alone in the ocean, or maybe Tony’s pleas finally got to him. Either way, he didn’t think they’d be parting ways again.

Not even if Bucky tried to convince Tony it was for his own good.

With one last glance to his lover, he made his way inside the brothel.

Nakia was nowhere to be seen at first glance, but as soon as he sat at an empty table, pointedly ignoring the business that went on the tables around him—and wasn’t that one of his men sitting a couple of tables on the right with a whore grinding on his lap?—Bucky noticed Okoye climbing up the stairs.

It was only a matter of time before the two women came down to meet him. He didn’t know, and frankly did not care, about the details of their relationship, but you could tell only by glance, as they made their way towards him walking side by side, whispering into each other’s personal space, that it was more intimate than friendship.

T’Challa was a lucky man to have two of the finest women that close to him.

“What can I do for you?” Nakia asked, sitting down on the chair in front of him with no hurry on her moves while Okoye stood behind her with an air of menace that could scare lesser men than him. Nakia went straight to the point, which was a thing Bucky always liked about her. He smiled.

Maybe at other times they could have been great friends, but as fate decides, she was now involved with T’Challa and his pirate crew.

“I need a name.” It was all he said. And it was all it took to get her interested.

“A name?” Nakia shifted further, leaning on her elbows, even as her face showed nothing more than mild disinterest.

“I… heard that there’s an expensive cargo that recently arrived on our shores.” he crossed his legs and fiddled with the hem of his coat.

“Isn’t it Natasha who runs the bay?” Nakia asked innocently, as if neither of them knew who really ran the island from the shadows, as if Bucky didn’t know Nakia was the one to really be wary about.

Bucky shook his head and snorted, his smirk growing bolder. “I need inside information, and what’s a better place to find it than the same place that sold T’Challa the information to the Spanish gold?”

That was a bluff, but by the way Nakia stiffened and Okoye’s hand quickly found the handle of her sword, Bucky knew his hunch was right.

“Don’t worry,” he continued, “I don’t blame you.”

And really, he couldn’t.

He knew almost nothing from her past, but he’d watched from afar as she started from less than nothing, escaping from a slave owner and becoming a whore to the lady she was today. Her green jewelry shone bright with her accomplishments around her neck, and each and every inch of her silken dress she had obtained with tears and sweat.

Nakia’s partnership with T’Challa and Okoye didn’t seem to be a bad thing for her after all. In the end, she got the money she clearly deserved after years being mistreated everywhere she went. Bucky was glad that the treasure at least went to someone who deserved it, someone with a dark past much like (far worse, if he was honest) his.

And really, no one knew how to rule the island better than she did.

Both women physically relaxed after hearing his reassuring of a peaceful visit, and seemed even inclined to help him, genuinely so, curiously. Their conversation probably didn’t last more than a few minutes, clever words thrown around by Nakia and him in an almost amicable way, even with Okoye looming dangerously over them at every moment.

Bucky managed to get out of the brothel with more than he imagined getting in the first place, which meant, at least, something was working his way.

“What did she tell you?” Tony asked eagerly once Bucky stepped outside, sighing happily to know his lover was still in one piece. Bucky couldn’t wait for them to arrive home later that evening and show him how  _ excited  _ he was.

But for now…

“She gave me the Captain’s name. It seems a new crew decided to make Nassau their home as well, but their unhinged Captain is spoiling Nakia’s business, and she wants him gone.”

“Which is where we come in?” Tony followed as Bucky paced down the street towards the bay.

“Precisely where we come in.” ‘We’ as in ‘I will not let you get your hands dirty, Tony, but you don’t know that yet’.

“What’s his name?”

“Captain Klaw.”

-

“Here’s how we’re going to do this.” He looked from Tony to Sam. “You two are staying right here, guarding the ship as I lead the men to the attack. No one on the island aside from us knows this is going down, so it will be quick and silent.” Bucky tried not to cringe at the grimace on Tony’s face that betrayed how he felt about this killing ordeal. “Sam, I know you don’t know how to fight for your life, but I taught Tony more than enough to defend you two if something goes down, okay?”

Sam nodded, and Bucky could see the confusion growing in his face the longer Bucky spoke. He was sure once he left, Sam would bombard Tony with questions, which only meant that Bucky did a great job keeping his personal life away from the ship’s business.

He exchanged one long look with Tony and smiled almost imperceptibly at Tony’s serious nod.

“Bring him safe.”

“I will.”

###  **May 16th, 1705, London**

The day was too sunny and blue for James to suspect anything would be going wrong.

Not that it intrinsically had anything to do with everything going wrong, but James had woken up that morning in his lodgings with the sun shining warm on his face for the first time since a long rainy season. The day promised him a lot. He had finally gotten a long break from the navy—two weeks max, giving updates as to his status every so often—and had already made plans with Steve and Tony to spend most of his time in their mansion.

The anticipation bubbled happily in his belly. 

He missed them. Ever since he went out to sea in the middle of April, he hadn’t heard a word from them, which was frankly normal. For one, he was busy with his work, and letters only got to the open ocean if they were of utmost importance.

So the silence wasn’t new, but he missed them all the same.

James should have known something was about to go wrong the moment he entered the navy’s quarters with his first update status. In the letter it simply said he’d be spending the first week of his break in the Rogers Residence, a completely innocuous statement, especially since he already spent most of his free time there.

He had prepared himself a bag with changes of clothing and other important belongings, and quickly fished out his letter to give it to the Admiral himself. James found him easily in his own office, going over this or that important document and signing it carefully.

“Take care,” was the only thing Admiral Pierce told him before James went on his way. Come to think of, the worried crease on Pierce’s forehead and his saddened smile should have been warning enough for James. 

But no, his excitement to spend an entire week next to his lovers blinded him, and with a skip on his step, he made his way to them.

-

The house was dark when a member of the house staff opened the doors for him. She looked pale, as if she’d be chastised for opening the door, but James smiled nonetheless and it seemed to relax her somewhat.  _ Strange _ , he thought, but quickly vanished all doubt in order to find his lovers. 

The hallways and corners were becoming easy to memorize the more he found himself strolling around. There were some things he already knew by heart. The red vase facing the window on the second floor living room, or the harpsichord sat near their private apartment; the colors of the tapestry he dared not to step because he knew they were more expensive than he could even fathom to pay if something were to ruin them.

But of course, it was their quarters James came to learn by heart. Every nook, every shade the sun could make, James knew it all. From the window plants to the number of pillows in their considerable large bed.

The room was quiet when he finally opened the wide doors. The windows were closed and the air seemed stagnated, like no one entered for at least a day.

What was happening?

“Where is Lord Rogers and Lord Stark? Did they leave for the countryside?” he asked the valet who had followed him quietly. That hesitation once again shadowed her expression, but before he could get anything from her, James heard a loud slam from inside the room.

From the side door of the quarters, Tony came running, looking paler than James ever saw him. And that wasn’t all, no. Tony’s breathing was shallow, and something kin to panic crossed his eyes as he rested his hand on the door frame next to James.

“What’s wrong?” James asked, his own panic rising as he scanned Tony for any injury, and only meeting his eyes again when he was sure there were none. His hand itched to touch him, but James didn’t dare with another person so close to them, for their own sake.

“Steve, he—” Tony gulped as his lips trembled downwards in an involuntary frown. When he managed to gather himself, there were tears in his eyes. “We have to get out of here.”

“What happened to Steve?” James’ stomach dropped. Whatever Tony’s words would be, James was already waiting for the worst.

“Our parents, they, uh, found out about everything— I mean,” Tony shook a trembling hand between them, “they already knew, or suspected. But now they, they did it.” His grip on the doorframe tightened until his knuckles were white. “They sent Steve to a mental health centre.”

“What?” his voice lacked any kind of emotion. At some point, James didn’t notice, the valet left them alone to give them space, James suspected. It was just the two of them, with the weight of the news between them, sucking all action and emotions from James like a black hole.

“They set us up, they finally separated us from Steve. I’ve always known my father hated me but I’ve never  _ thought _ —” his voice broke into sobs.

James didn’t think. He instantly wrapped his arms around Tony, trying to physically protect his lover from everything that happened, even if he was also crumbling down from the inside out. It was there, while holding Tony’s small, shaking form, that something clicked inside his brain. Something dark, a pit of sorts.

His jaw set, he saw red. His chest burned with hate, growing deeper and darker at every sob Tony couldn’t help letting escape. Everything they knew collapsed into ashes, and those ashes only fueled his anger.

Tony’s cold touch found his face, and the lord clinged to James as if trying to salvage the only part of his life that still made sense, and James let him. He connected their foreheads and hugged Tony tighter, hoping, helplessly, that that would help. Somehow.

James couldn’t tell how long they spent like that. He wasn’t even sure if he blinked. His cheeks were wet, though, and his vision blurry. Outrage still burned through his veins, and James wasn’t sure it would ever quench.

Tony’s voice when he started talking was so small, James almost didn’t catch it. “We need to hide. I’m not sure, but I think they might come after us. I have friends in France, we can stay there for a couple of months, gather our strength and save Steve—”

“No,” James cut Tony off mid-rambling. His face contorted into something grim. “We need to show them what we are capable of. They broke us up, destroyed everything we’ve been working on for this long. We need to show them we can still save Nassau.”

“But England—”

“Fuck England. This country did nothing but betray us, Tony. But to show England we can make Nassau thrive without them? That would be the last laugh. And then…” he squeezed Tony’s shoulders and kissed the crown of his head longly, “and then we save Steve.”

###  **May 22th, 1715, Nassau**

The sun was just starting to rise on the East when Bucky climbed the Winter Soldier. His steps were somber, like one is when faced with death. Still, Bucky made sure to clean his coat and face from Klaw’s blood before coming back to face Tony.

It was pointless to do that, he knew. Tony had already seen Bucky at his worst, to have a few drops of blood on his face was nothing. Still, there was a part inside of him that always hated exposing Tony to all the carnage he saw everyday.

Running footsteps came from the stern and down the stairs to the main deck, eager to meet him. Tony’s eyes were wide, but there was relief shining in it, as if he didn’t believe Bucky would be back so soon, or at all.

“The kid?” Tony asked as his greeting. Straight to the point as always, Bucky snorted fondly. 

“Sleeping peacefully.” Bucky said. “Well, maybe not peacefully. But he’s unconscious. Klaw seemed to put him into a slumber, no clue when he’ll wake up.”

“Where is he?”

“My men are taking him to Nakia’s. We should hurry if we still want to find him sleeping.”

-

The room Nakia saved for them was small and the wood creaked under their steps. Bucky could see mold growing unchecked on the corners and the walls looked like they’d seen better days. But it had a set of windows in the Northern and Eastern walls, which was more than most other rooms had, and it gave the room a better airflow than the rest. So at least they didn’t have to smell other people’s sweat and other bodily fluids while talking to the kid.

“Did you really have to tie him?” Tony asked in hushed tones. Peter Parker was still asleep, his body limp against the chair Bucky deposited him on. In no way that could be comfortable, but the kid was still too gone to care.

“I didn’t tie him, Tony. I just didn’t untie him yet.”

Tony scoffed, “Same difference.”

“I just don’t want him running away on me first thing when he wakes up, is all.” Bucky shrugged and held his hands behind his back. He continued his mostly silent (thanks to the wooden boards) pacing around the unkempt table further from where Tony and the kid were sitting.

“Where would I run, anyway?” said a third person, with a fair share of bravery, if the trembling on his voice was anything to go by. Bucky stopped on his tracks, both hands silently falling on his sides again. Peter Parker shifted uncomfortably on his chair before giving up finding a better position.

Tony didn’t waste time. He swiftly slid from his chair and crouched down in front of the young lord, putting a gentle hand on his knee to soothe his nerves. His smile was kind and never faltering, but the kid’s eyes anxiously met Bucky’s every now and again.

“Hello there, Peter, darling.” Tony made sure Peter was seeing him take the binds from his wrists. “I’m not sure you’ll remember me, but I’m an old friend of your father.”

“Lord… Stark?” Peter managed to look from Bucky to Tony, blinking a few times until he truly seemed to recognize the man in front of him. The kid’s shoulders slumped, barely, but the relief was obvious for trained eyes like Bucky’s.

“That’s right.” Tony’s smile grew more genuine, “I wasn’t sure you’d recognize me after all these years… and to think you were only a kid last time we saw each other.” he scoffed and shook his head, no doubt relieving those easier times.

“I don’t think I could ever forget you, Sir, you were father’s closest friend.” Peter gave him a ghost of a smile, eyes flicking back at Bucky, who was now looking out from the eastern window. Bucky wanted to give the kid as much space as he could give without exiting the room, even though he knew his presence did nothing to calm Peter. “Are you friends with pirates now, Lord Stark?”

“Tony is fine, Peter,” Tony said before following Peter’s line of sight, “oh, by pirates you mean James here?” His smile was now one full of secrecy. “Not to worry, he’s also your father’s friend.”

Peter frowned, “Pardon me, but father hates all pirates, especially the ones like Captain Bucky… sir.” he straightened his back and squeezed his eyes shut, and Bucky had to bite back a laugh. Was the kid afraid Bucky would do something to him for saying his name out loud?

“Peter,” Tony said gently, “I can promise nothing will happen to you while you’re with us. No one will try to get close to you while you’re in the presence of the most feared pirate of the Bahamas, isn’t that right, James?” Tony giggled at the boggled expression on the kid’s face. Bucky nodded and hummed in agreement, still maintaining his calm and collected demeanor from afar.

Peter gulped and cautiously met Bucky’s eyes again before forcing himself to ask, “What will you do to me?”

And didn’t that squeeze Bucky’s heart painfully? Bucky and Tony had no idea what this kid had had to endure before they found him. Probably falling from one pirate ship to another. He probably had to endure rude, aggressive captains and their crew and try to protect himself with little to no instruments.

Bucky didn’t wish that to anyone.

“We are taking you home. To your father.” As Tony spoke, Bucky really hoped the kid could sense how true his words were. Peter was now untied, both his hands and ankles, he could run if he wanted to, they wouldn’t stop him. Yet he didn’t.

Instead, he scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “I doubt my father wants me back at any rate. He was the one to send me away back to England in the first place.”

Tony shook his head, but it was Bucky who spoke, and if his voice was graver than he intended, no one seemed to mind.

“Trust me when I say that to lose someone dear to your heart hurts more than you can fathom. I don’t need to imagine how your father is to know how he is feeling.” Bucky gulped down more words before he said more than he would want and looked out of the window to the bustling city center.

Peter became quiet after that.

###  **May 19th, 1705, En Route to Nassau**

There was no one they could trust after that.

Not the captain of the ship they hitched a ride, nor the crew, and certainly not the other passengers. No one probably knew who they were and who they were running from, but one could never be too careful.

The two days before they left had been all about finding a crew willing to stop by Nassau and let them disembark without asking any questions. The closest they got was a captain that would take them a few islands up north from Nassau and a disappointed shake of said captain’s head when he heard where they were headed.

James ignored the man. They wouldn’t get anywhere second guessing all their actions from now on. Tony had a harder time dealing with that, but kept silent and didn’t complain. Or at least didn’t complain about the important things.

“Do you normally sleep in a bed so small whenever you aren’t with us?” Tony asked, confusion and disgust clearly written in his face as he stared, clearly offended, at James mattress, “And what are the hard lumps I feel?”

James snorted and laid on his side, pushing Tony against his chest. He’d been talkative since they left the Rogers’ mansion the day before, trying to overcompensate the fear and anxiety he was surely having a hard time dealing with. James indulged him, both because if it wasn’t for Tony’s constant ramblings, James would have grown quiet like a clam—his own way of dealing with the situation—and because he knew it calmed Tony.

“Not everyone is born a lord who can sleep on the finest brushed wool of the Kingdom. Some of us have to do with what’s left,” he mumbled against the man’s shorter hair.

“If I had known you were sleeping like this, I’d never had let you leave the residence.” Tony still sounded indignant against James’ collarbone, so James held him tighter and pressed his lips against his forehead.

“Thank you. But now, shush, try to get some sleep. We are leaving early tomorrow morning.”

-

To say that Tony was unfamiliar with the swinging of a ship was an understatement. 

It would be funny to watch him struggling with this new environment if he wasn’t so seasick all the time. James caressed his back time and time again as Tony retched over the sides of the ship.

“There, Tony,” he passed his lover a canteen of water for him to keep hydrated. “Soon you’ll get used to it.”

“I really doubt that,” Tony’s voice was rough and dry as he answered, but he took a long gulp of the water.

“I’m serious, it happens to everyone.”

“Did it happen to you, too?” Tony side-eyed him, narrowing his eyes like James’ words were lies.

“Well, maybe not _ everyone _ . But it’s normal, don’t worry.”

Tony let out a whine before hunching over the rail once more.

-

Two more days before they arrived in Nassau, having found a willing ship to take them there from the island they got off.

Only two days left, and that was when it happened.

Since they were already so far from London, they let their guards down, their first mistake. But who would have thought they would find trouble so far from home? Trouble of a special kind, that is.

They were each on a hammock on the lower decks of the new ship, fast asleep from their long journey when the tinkling of a sword being unsheathed woke James. With a jump he was out of his hammock, his sword in hand already as he pointed it to the throat of their attacker.

The light was dim this far down in the ship, coming only from the moonlight streaming from the few windows. The man stood frozen in place, looking calmer than any man with a sword at his throat should. He had his own sword a few inches from Tony’s neck, not yet pressing against the delicate skin, but close enough Tony could probably feel the coldness from the metal hovering over.

James didn’t dare look at Tony, he couldn’t take his eyes from the assassin, but he could hear his shallow breathing, knew that Tony was trying his best to be as frozen in place as possible. 

Time stood still for a few moments. There was no telling how long it passed while the three of them stayed in this position, but James was the first to move.

Swiftly, before any of them could blink, he managed to get his sword under the enemy’s and with a trained deftness, got the enemy to drop his weapon with a circling from his wrist. The metal fell on the wooden floor with a clang, and James managed to step on the blade before the man could get to it.

To his frustration, the assassin removed a dagger from his back and once again prompted it against Tony’s naked neck, this time getting a strong hold on his thick black hair and yanked it back. An involuntary hiss of pain was Tony’s only complaint.

“One more step and I’ll kill him,” the man said. His voice was deep and thick, making something inside James grow uncomfortably grim.

“Who are you? What do you want?” James asked in hushed tones, not wanting to wake the other people around them and cause an even bigger comotion.

The man only scoffed and said nothing, sliding the dagger closer to Tony’s artery, just barely cutting through the skin with the pressure. James grew paler as he stared at the thin line of vivid red blood running slowly down Tony’s neck, and before he knew it, he drew his sword deep into the man’s chest. The assassin seemed too shocked to react, which Tony noticed quickly and moved away from the dagger and to the floor.

James’ aim had not been precise for a quick death, but it was fatal nonetheless. He could see blood spilling from the man’s mouth as his widened eyes found Tony’s on the ground. They were gleaming at the moonlight, full of something James couldn’t decipher but knew it meant nothing good, a sight that would haunt James for years after this.

“Your father sends you his regards,” the man said with a wicked, bloody smile before stumbling back and falling with his limp body just a few inches away from Tony.

It was only then, after the man stopped twitching and went completely still, that his words processed in his brain.

“Fuck.” James let go of his sword and crouched next to Tony, patting in the darkness until he found the back of Tony’s head and leaned it against his chest. Tony was shaking, harder than he did the day Steve was taken away, and the fury deep inside James’ chest only grew.

“He’ll pay for this.” James didn’t know how, nor when, but Howard Stark would pay for trying to do this to Tony, his only son.

His stomach turned sickeningly and for a second he thought he would be the one to throw up.

Tony didn’t answer, didn't make any noise aside from a few uncontrolled sobbing and sniffs. The clock that had been ticking back in his mind since the day they left finally came to a stop as he once again held Tony before his lover irreparably broke into pieces.

If he wanted to protect Tony, to never let any of this come close to him again, he needed to change, to become someone no one dared cross. Someone who would bring havoc in his way. See everything burn down to ashes to match the turmoil inside himself.

James Buchanan Barnes died that night two days before getting to Nassau. It was also the first day of Captain Bucky’s vengeful existence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaa So the plot thickens...   
> Poor Tony, he deserves so much :'(


	5. Chapter 5

###  **May 24th, 1715, Winter Soldier**

The scratching of quill over parchment was the only thing keeping the silence from falling completely between them. Its incessant noise bothered Bucky more than he would care to admit, but since Peter’s eyes had shone when they offered him something to write down, Bucky didn’t complain.

Tony was sitting next to Peter over Bucky’s table that stood right beneath the windows of his office. Tony watched Peter silently as the boy indulged himself in his task of writing whatever it was. Bucky didn’t get closer to Peter, deciding instead to lay down on his hammock on the other side of the room, taking turns at observing them and keeping an eye on the door.

Bucky hadn’t said a word to the kid since that moment in Nakia’s brothel, not wanting to make him grow more uncomfortable, and in turn, Peter only answered with short sentences when asked to speak.

“Say, Peter, have you ever read this book? It’s quite remarkable,” Tony said, trying to cut through the tense silence that filled the room, not for the first time.

Peter glanced at the book on Tony’s hand, barely moving his head as he did so, and quietly answered, “No, I haven’t.” before his eyes trailed back to the paper on the table.

“Oh, then it’s a must read.” Tony smiled down at the cover. From the distance, Bucky couldn’t tell which book exactly Tony had in his hands, but there were only a few that could make him pull that smile.

It went on in the same way for the remainder of the evening until someone came knocking on the door to tell them dinner was ready. The three walked down the stairs into the lower decks and sat on a far away table in the hall, each with a bowl of stew in front of them.

Bucky watched Peter calmly as he dragged his wooden spoon over the food, lost in thought. His eyes were focused on the crew sitting closer to the middle of the room, but Bucky wasn’t sure if his thoughts were on them or something far away.

It was only when Tony and Bucky both finished their bowls that Peter spoke up, starting a conversation for the first time.

“Your crew is…” Peter pursed his lips as he searched for the right word, “calm. Calmer.”

The boy didn’t need to say what he was comparing his crew with, because Bucky knew he was referring to the other pirate ships he’d been on. And even after going through all he went, he could still muster enough curiosity amidst his fear to look over the pirates sitting all around. Peter was a brave kid.

Bucky let out a low chuckle, “It wasn’t like this until recently, I can assure you.”

“Oh, really?” Tony asked, blinking at Bucky innocently, acting like it was the first time he was hearing his lover’s ‘workplace’ was dangerous.

Bucky rolled his eyes and nudged Tony on his knees. “Yes. We used to have someone around that liked to rile everyone up.” he said, remembering with a grimace when Brock locked him up on his own brig not so many days ago.

Peter hummed, eyes showing how deeply he thought as he chewed at a piece of dry meat. “I wonder why pirates are like this.”

“Like what?”

“Violent.”

Bucky could feel Tony’s eyes on his face the moment Peter’s words left his mouth. He stiffened instinctively, but quickly managed to get the engines of his brain working again. Bucky leaned back on his chair and crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes at the kid.

“You know, kid, I used to think like you a lifetime ago.” he admitted, silently assuring Tony he was okay by knocking their thighs together.

“What’s changed?” Peter asked, blue eyes full of curiosity, even if they couldn’t meet Bucky’s straight ahead.

“I became a pirate.” he shrugged. “You see, people in the thirteen colonies and those back in the mainland don’t seem to acknowledge, or even know, that  _ we,” _ he made a circling movement with his hand, motioning to every pirate in the room, “were once part of that society.” At Peter’s shocked face, Bucky snorted, “I can see by your expression that I just proved my point.

“You see, Peter, society is nothing more than a tightrope. If you step on the line and keep stepping, nothing bad will happen to you, and you are most likely going to spend the rest of your life not even wondering what’s underneath your wobbly feet. But if you step out of it, if you lose your balance, or if the rope is cut, you fall, and you can never go back.

“I don’t blame Brock from what he’d become, not really. He’s the firstborn of a noble man back in London, lived most of his life like you did. But he once found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time, being captured and later having to kill out of survival needs. And for him, that one kill, that one death tainted his hands. He couldn’t even face his parents after it, he said he prefered they thought him dead instead of a killer. So he fell, and we took him in.”

There was a thick silence after everything Bucky said, one that still promised more, but he let Peter take his words in before he continued.

“Did the same happen to you?” Peter asked, looking at the men still booming loudly as they ate cheerfully.

“Somewhat. All our stories are the same, in a way.” He hunched forward and rested his elbows on the table, “Once you fall…” his eyes shifted to Tony as he continued speaking, “nothing can save you.” Tony’s lips thinned and he closed his eyes. “We try our best to survive, but that’s it. Society took our lives from us, by their standards, by their rules, by their kings. But we persist.”

“Why?” Peter’s voice was rough, and Bucky smiled with compassion.

“Because we want our lives back.”

###  **July 30th, 1705, Nassau**

There was nothing too remarkable about Nassau. The people carried simple lives, as Bucky had imagined so, the houses were mostly made out of wood, quick and cheap to build, except the governor’s house, the tavern, and the brothel. Normal, plain, simple.

They fit right into it. Or, as it was, a little further than right into. 

They managed to build a nice cottage far off the village limits, a space for just the two of them. To heal, to mourn, to grow. And to grow, some things have to go. His long hair was the first of a tall list of things Bucky got rid from his previous life.

Every morning would start with Bucky teaching Tony some basic defence moves. He didn’t want to leave Tony unprotected, not with so many pirates living nearby. And Tony, as it turned out, was an exceptional student.

It was between those first few months that somehow a letter from Joseph Rogers found its way to their house. They set their questions aside for the moment to learn about its content, and were devastated by it. His only son, Steven Grant Rogers, had fallen ill, and perished on the night of the third the same month.

Mourning became as natural as breathing.

Eventually, as things normally did, they managed to resurface from the devastation, from the pain and sorrow. They had a new purpose now — avenge Steve’s death and bring him peace in the afterlife. So they focused all their power into getting Nassau, Steve’s personal project, to run itself.

Bucky got involved more and more with the island’s business, recruiting people for his cause, or simply by giving them food and a place to sleep. The Winter Soldier was built not long after that, and by the time he properly started sailing again (this time as a fearsome pirate) his name had traveled twice the distance he had imagined it would.

“I found out my father’s position,” Tony had said one day. His face was set, eyeing the coordinates in his hands gravely. “Go after him. Please.”

“For you, anything.”

And with a passionate kiss, Bucky left to the sea with his crew. It hadn't been hard to find Howard Stark’s ship, nor to kill him. And that kill set his name in stone next to the other remarkable pirate captains. That sealed his destiny forever to the seas and to his ship.

Making his devotion to Tony his reason to go on.

And on and on and on and on.

Like the never ending waves of the ocean.

Angry and harsh at first, until it slowly comes closer and closer to the sand, to the warm, solid ground.

Until it can rest. Until it finds his way back home.

And it retreats into a relaxed state between Tony’s arms.

Until there’s nothing but foam.

###  **June 17th, 1715, Charles Town**

“Are you ready, kid?” Bucky asked with a shy smirk dangling on his face. Peter shrugged but didn’t look away from the approaching Charles Town’s harbor.

“I guess I’m as ready as I’m going to get.” Peter answered truthfully, leaning his elbows over the wooden edge of the ship. He looked relaxed, Bucky noticed, watching the kid by the corner of his eyes.

When people say one can’t change in a short period of time, they are completely wrong. And if one asked Bucky why he thought so, he’d only had to give Peter Parker as an example. Over the last months the poor boy had gone through what will probably end up being the darkest days of his life and still, he emerged from it with only a pale face.

He then was ‘rescued’ by the most feared pirate of the Atlantic Ocean and spent the next twenty-five days relearning all he knew about pirates by observing, by chatting, even if only sometimes. Bucky himself didn’t just learn all that was to know about the kid’s growing knowledge just by observing, though, because Peter Parker himself came to him one night and asked him all he knew.

“All I know about what?” Bucky had asked, looking up from the new notes his quartermaster had written down on the ship’s logs.

“Everything.”

Peter slowly started to relax, mostly around Tony and Bucky. He didn’t dare leave the confines of the captain’s quarters on the upper decks, but he looked more at home than that first night, when he looked straight as a plank.

And, Bucky admitted, the kid grew on him.

Maybe twenty-five days is enough for people to change, even if just a little.

-

Charles Town’s dock was bustling with sailors and street vendors. Bucky smothered an old memory before it resurfaced, as the dock seemed just like the one in London, and commanded his men about before getting both Tony and Peter to the solid ground.

It wasn’t difficult to find their way through the city, especially with Peter guiding them. Bucky mostly ignored the strange looks he got from the men and women who crossed their path, and remembered once again what Peter had told them about his father’s policy on pirates.

Peter and Tony could pass as normal citizens. Although both were a little dirty from their trip, their clothes still resembled some kind of nobility. Bucky’s clothes, on the other hand, aside from the blue velvety long coat—and even that had been stitched and patched more times than he could count—were plain, and the swords dangling from his left hip together with the leather strap diagonally set over his chest with his two pistols gave him away.

But even so, no one stopped them until they got to the doors of the governor’s residency, a three-storey mansion, no wider than the one Tony and Steve used to live in in London, but a lot less detailed and well-maintained. It faced a beautiful park, with a large fountain sitting in the middle, water spouting like little flocks of crystal back down the pond.

As they got to the front doors, the two guards clad in the British red colors stopped them from entering. It only took one word from Peter for them to relax and step aside, opening the doors with a stiffened bow, clearly following Bucky’s movement with suspicion in their eyes.

There wasn’t much that Bucky remembered between entering the house and finally seeing Richard after all this time. He remembered following Peter around the elegant corridors, ignoring most of his surroundings both out of spite from his past (he remembered a time when looking at expensive vases made him awed with interest) and from trying to keep his focus.

Tony, though, had a sad, nostalgic expression turned to every tapestry, every plant and painting they saw. Bucky discreetly squeezed their hands together, and he in turn received a watery smile.

They let Peter knock on Richard’s office door at a safe distance. They didn’t want to get in the way of father and son reuniting, but they also didn’t think they could get much far away, not with the guards following closely their every step.

“Peter? Is that you?” they heard coming from the crack on the door. The voice was tired, weary even, but with a faint hint of hope. From the door emerged Richard, disbelief visible in his eyes. Peter was home. The man himself looked older than Bucky remembered, and it made sense, since it had been ten years since the last time they saw each other. His temples had started to grey, and the wrinkles in his eyes were becoming visible.

Richard closed the distance between them and snatched his son into his arms, squeezing tightly and hiding his sobs on the kid’s shoulders. 

“My son,” he muttered into Peter’s hair.

A few hours later, as the sun started its trek toward the west, Peter excused himself to rest in his quarters with a promise to come down when supper was ready. Bucky and Tony were left fidgeting alone in the spacious room they had been previously shoved in with Richard, who was now sitting at his table, looking from Tony to Bucky. His narrowed gaze was full of mistrust as the lord rested his chin over his interlaced fingers.

“Hello, Richard.” Tony said, breaking the silence. He smiled warmingly at his long lost friend. “It has been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Indeed, Anthony.” He turned to face Tony completely, but his eyes still drifted toward Bucky every now and then. “How have you been?”

“Oh, you know,” Tony waved a hand dismissively, “could’ve been better.” There was a tense pause before he continued. “You remember James Barnes, right? He helped us with that last project of ours?”

“Ah, yes, I remember it… Although I don’t remember you being a pirate at that time.”

Bucky sat back on his chair, trying his best to act relaxed, even while everyone’s eyes were trained on him. It was unnerving, especially coming from the guards.

“Things change in ten years, don’t they?” Bucky waved a hand around the room and didn’t miss Richard’s eyes narrowing to his direction.

“Indeed…” his posture changed then. He straightened his back and rested his hands on the table, looking more professional than a few seconds ago. “But you brought back my son, and for that I’m forever grateful. What can I do to repay my debt?”

“We need your help,” Tony went straight to the point. He added a moment later, his voice gentler, “For old time’s sake.”

Richard leaned forward. “Go on.”

“We are as close as we’ve ever gotten to winning over Nassau, we only need some investment.”

Richard’s face instantly closed off as Tony finished speaking. His lips thinned, eyes once more moving from Tony’s hopeful face to Bucky’s serious one.

“No, that I cannot do.”

“What? Why not?” Tony’s face fell, and Bucky would give everything to take that expression away from his face, but he couldn’t, not while dealing with Richard.

“How many people died because of that dream? Tony, you have no house, Steve is gone, even your father—”

“Don’t bring my father into this,” Tony warned sternly, back growing rigid, yet his face was still collected.

“Yet he’s also dead. And...” Richard’s index finger went to his chin as he pondered, “Wasn’t he killed by a certain pirate captain?” his eyes pierced through Bucky.

The room was silent for a beat. Richard and Bucky stared at each other, neither daring to move a muscle and give in to the other’s gaze. Tony, on the other hand, sat calmly back in his chair and chuckled darkly.

“Yes, Richard, indeed it was Bucky who ended my father’s life. But only because I asked for it.”

Richard looked stunned with the revelation and silently gulped. 

“I can’t say I understand your motives, Tony, your father was always so generous.” 

“Hmm, generous to whom, I wonder,” Tony mumbled, looking down at the table with unfocused eyes. “But his death had nothing to do with our plan, and certainly nothing to do with you. Also, that was years ago. Such things are better left alone.” 

Richard nodded stiffly, “If you wish,” he then said, rubbing a hand over his forehead. A moment later they were interrupted by a knock on the door. A servant came into the room to tell them that dinner was ready and Peter had already been informed.

Their conversation was put aside for the time being. Bucky was immensely grateful that their host and old friend still hadn’t thrown them out, and was even taking them to his dining room. Frankly, he had been expecting worse.

Supper was a silent ordeal, for the most part. Peter had been sitting at the table when they arrived, and smiled when he saw that his new friends would be joining them. Small talk had been a little rusty on everyone’s part, which had been quite a surprise for Bucky, because Tony knew how to talk his way in and out every situation. But…

But his lover wasn’t focused on their conversation, wasn’t even focused on his own food, Bucky noticed when he looked closely. Tony’s eyes were drawn somewhere outside of the table, to the far left corner, a point near the door.

Was he looking at the guards at the entrance, maybe? No, that wasn’t it. The guards would surely be shifting at their feet from the intensity of Tony’s glare.

It had to be something more serious. Tony’s face was growing paler as time went by, and gently, in a movement that looked almost numb, Tony let his fork down on his plate and turned to face Richard at the table end.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Tony had to clear his throat before continuing, which alarmed Bucky. His voice came out so weak. “That longcase clock, right there next to the door, the one that's making the ticking noise, yet the pointers are stuck,” he waited so everyone took a look at the clock and continued, “where did you get that?”

“Father got it as a gift before he became governor.” Peter answered absentmindedly, his interest completely on the food in his plate, completely oblivious to the deadly glare his father shot him or of the tension growing between the adults.

“Oh,” Tony looked like he was going to be sick. “A gift, huh?” Bucky frowned.

“What’s wrong, Tony? You don’t look so well.”

“James, it’s…” he trailed off, eyes still glued on the wood of the clock’s long body, taking in the round petals of the flowers carved on the sides, “you might not remember since you’ve only been a couple of times to my father’s old residence back in London… but that is the exact same clock my father used to have in his living room.” 

The dining room fell silent. A cold air seemed to pass through the closed windows and run right through the middle of the table as Tony slowly extracted his eyes from the clock and to the man sitting further away.

Richard, in turn, was frozen in place. Both his hands were clasping his cutlery with a tight grip and his gaze was locked onto the table cloth.

“Dad?” Peter asked confused, “Why do you have that here?”

When his father didn’t answer, Peter turned to Tony for answers. Slowly, ever so calculated, Tony grabbed his napkin and tapped it against his mouth. One, two, three times before looking up.

“My father, Peter, was a horrible man, who did horrible things to me and James and… Steve.” he turned to Richard, “If this was a gift from him, can I please know, what did you give him in return?”

When Richard still didn’t answer, Tony stared at Bucky, and Bucky wasn’t surprised to see the anger growing on his brown, normally gentle eyes.

“Answer him, Richard,” Bucky ordered, harsher than Tony had. The guards on the door shifted their attention to them and Bucky sharpened his eyes. As he predicted, their hands were hovering over their guns.

“Because it looks,” Tony continued, voice trembling slightly, “like you and him were pretty close friends. Did that friendship start before or after you helped him set us up?”

“You what?” Bucky turned his wide eyes towards Richard. The lord’s knuckles were white, yet he still didn’t look up. “Did you have anything to do with that?”

“Or was it you who sent that assassin after us? Huh?” Tony pressed on, only sparing a fleeting glance towards Peter, who had gasped and looked shocked at his father. “Because,” Tony stood from his chair suddenly, “if I find out you had anything to do with our misery, anything to do with Steve’s death, you’re gonna burn. No— this whole place is going to burn.

“Did he also give you this post? Tell me, did selling us out give you this house?”

“You traitor!” Bucky shouted and jumped to his feet. He slammed his fist against the table, making the silverware and porcelain shake. Richard startled, looking at Bucky as the pirate placed a hand over the handle of his sword.

“What could I have done?” Richard whined, “he was giving everything I ever wanted! You wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh, of course we wouldn’t understand, you made sure we never understood living a decent life ever again!” Tony leaned forward, his fists shaking at his flanks. “I want you out of my sight, out of this place. You took Steve away from us, took our homes from us, and we thought you were our friend! Instead you got this place, and you got it all from the ashes of our lives.”

“Father… i-is this true?” Peter asked softly.

“I… I,” Richard stammered, looking at his son with sorrowful, regretful eyes.

“I want to see you _ hanging—” _

Tony was cut short by the deafening sound of a gun being shot. A high pitch took over Bucky’s senses, and that was all he could think for the next few seconds. He blinked, trying to make sense where the sound came from.

The feeble figure of one of the guards stood next to the table. His hand was still stretched, still pointing the gun in the air, yet with difficulty, as his whole arm trembled. He looked young. It was probably the first time he’d ever had to shoot at someone.

But who was shot?

Bucky’s blood ran cold. Judging by the position of the gun, there was only one person who the guard could be pointing at.

“TONY!”

He didn’t waste time. In a second, his own gun was out and the guard lay dead on the floor. The other guard probably ran off to call for backup or got too scared to go against Bucky. Either way, he left. 

In a blink of an eye, he was on the other side of the table, crouching over the body of his lover. There was a puddle of blood forming on the right side of his head, but no bullet wound. Bucky exhaled shakily, relieved when he realized the bullet had only nicked Tony’s ear; the shot had made him faint.

With trembling hands, Bucky cradled Tony’s face and softly kissed his forehead, letting a long, relieved sigh. 

“Is he dead?” Peter stuttered next to him. His voice was pitched, and when Bucky looked up, he saw how young Peter really was. His eyes were wide and flooding with tears. He hesitated on his feet, not sure if he should run away or get closer from Bucky.

“He’s alive.” Bucky tightened his grip around Tony’s body before releasing. “Look after him for me. I have some business with your father.”

Peter merely nodded, white as a sheet, and Bucky wanted to hang himself for letting his anger get the best of him in front of the kid. He deserved better than a life full of death, yet here Bucky was, killing someone in front of him like it was nothing.

He stood up slowly, going against all his instincts that were shouting for him to stay at Tony’s side, protect him, and nodded for Peter to take his place.

“Just don’t kill him,” the kid pleaded as Bucky walked past him.

“I’ll try,” he mumbled in response, already staring at Richard as the lord tried to make himself look small in the chair which he still sat.

At Bucky’s every strut, the man flinched.

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t me, I didn’t ask for him to shoot. I s-swear!” he yelped as Bucky got a fistful of the front of his shirt and yanked him forward. “Please, no, no! I can still help! I’m sorry, please don’t kill me!”

“You should pay for this.” Bucky’s voice was ice cold.

“A-and I shall, I really shall. But I can help, I have information. Yes.” He nodded frantically. “I have information that’s relevant to you.”

“Shut up,” Bucky warned.

“Steve is alive!” Richard shouted before Bucky could do anything else with him. When Bucky’s grip faltered, he continued. “He’s alive and well and being taken good care of.”

“Don’t  _ bullshit  _ me, Parker!” Bucky shouted and shook the man, “I am already angry at you. We know he died, his father made sure we knew about it.”

Richard shook his head. “That’s the thing. Joseph lied, he lied to everyone, but not to me. Steve is alive. Pretty much breathing still. Savannah, that's the name of the place he put Steve in. He couldn’t kill his son, he didn’t, I— I can show you where it is.”

###  **June 17th, 1715**

Grey.

The color of the ceiling every time he opened his eyes.

Grey.

The color of the clothes they gave him ever since he got here.

Grey.

The sun filtering from the one glass window and into his simple room.

Everything was so simple these days.

He woke up, got dressed, plowed the land. Sometimes they planted corn, other times it was wheat, he could never tell.

It was the only part of his day that remained a mystery to him. There was always a rush of excitement when he woke up with an undetermined schedule ahead.

Was it going to be corn today? Or wheat?

Corn or wheat?

Exciting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Say whaaat??  
> Hopefully things aren't going too fast... but if they are, just tell me!!   
> Kudos and comments are always welcomed. Hope you're enjoying it! <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go!! I'm posting the last two chapters together so we have a nice little closure this weekend.  
> Hope you enjoy! <3

###  **June 17th, 1715, Charles Town**

Steve was alive.

Steve… He… He was breathing.

Everything after Richard spilled out those words blurred together in Bucky’s mind. Of course, the moments before Tony woke up were agonizingly slow and he never left his lover’s side on the bed he had been put. But his mind was running on circles, trying to put all the information Richard had given him into a coherent order.

How was he going to tell that all to Tony without sounding like he’d lost his mind? 

But that soon stopped being a problem he had to deal with. The moment his lover woke up and assured Bucky he was fine (Bucky didn’t believe him, he must have a concussion at the least), Richard came through the door, as if summoned magically, bringing some heavy-looking books.

He sighed tiredly when he finally put the books down, and Bucky gave a silent, humorless cheer. That man deserved everything to be harder in his life from then on.

“Here are the maps of the area that I could find, and—” he waved an old piece of paper in the air, “Joseph’s letter.”

Tony blinked confused, “My ears might not yet be working properly, thanks to the gunshot, but did you just say Joseph’s letter?”

So Richard explained everything again, this time not being held by Bucky mid-air, but that didn’t stop the situation from being less tense. The look Tony was giving their host could cut diamonds. 

Bucky silently snorted and drifted from their discussion, knowing that they’d call him if it mattered. Instead, Bucky focused on the room they were put in. He didn’t have much time to look around before, having his mind split between looking after Tony and thinking about the fact that  _ Steve was alive. _

The walls were covered by a dark, floral wallpaper, which matched quite nicely with the burgundy duvet now pooling by Tony’s hip. The farthest wall was taken by an enormous bookcase that went from one side to the other, covering the entire wall. Its wood was also a dark color, incredibly varnished, with not a spot of dust on it.

Right in the middle of the room, beneath the luxurious chandelier with its hundreds of lit candles, stood the table in which Richard had set the papers and other materials he’d brought together with him. He approached the lord, stepping over the persian rug without hesitating and joined the man at the table.

“So what’s Savannah?” Bucky asked, crossing his arms to look just a tad more intimidating, just to scare Richard out. “And how do we enter?”

Tony leaned forward, ready to listen. Bucky had pleaded for him to not move much until he had completely recovered from his injury, and until now the man had seemed to be taking Bucky’s plea seriously.

Bucky hid a thankful smile by scratching his low stubble and watched as Richard found the right words to say.

“Savannah has many utilities. Some go there looking for a safe haven to hide, others, like insurgency leaders, get sent there because they are too important to be killed. But also, it’s a place where influential people, such as Joseph, hide their family members when they get out of line. But once you’re there, you can never leave, and you stay there till the end of your days.

“What happens inside, I cannot say, but it seems they live a life in anonymity, their pasts of no use anymore. It doesn’t matter if you are the son of a shoemaker or a lord, you will be treated the same. That is all I know about it.”

“Where is it located?” Tony asked. Bucky frowned and looked worriedly at him. He sounded too vulnerable, too rough.

“Just down in the Georgia Province.” Richard said as he went through the maps until he found one of the province in question. He pointed vaguely to the southern area near the seacoast. “Somewhere over here.”

-

“Happy, set sail to the south. Follow the coast,” Bucky ordered his sailing master as soon as he put his feet into the Winter Soldier.

“You got it, Captain.”

“If anyone needs me, I’ll be in my quarters. Only knock if it’s  _ important.” _

He took the stairs two at a time and opened the stern’s door. Tony closed it gently behind him.

Bucky breathed in. Then out. In. Out. He looked up at Tony, and felt his revolve crumbling down.

“Tony—” it was all he could say before he was cut off by a broken sob. He heard the sound of the door’s lock falling in place and soft footsteps approaching him, but he couldn’t see much, not with how his eyes began to blur and sting.

“I know.” Tony’s voice was just as weak, and a moment later Bucky felt Tony’s arms wrapping around his waist, leading him to a cushioned stand just underneath the glasses of the rear of the ship. Tony laid them both down carefully, gently guiding Bucky’s head to rest under his chin.

They stayed like that for a while, quietly, taking comfort in each other’s embrace, letting the low swaying of the ship lull them into a comfortable state. Bucky was beginning to warm up again, a warmth that had nothing to do with the hot, humid air from the summer outside, but rather something melting around his heart.

“Steve is alive,” he muttered, numbly saying the words he only half believed in.

Tony shifted back a little, staring at Bucky in the eyes. His smile was full of hope, full of love. “I know.”

Bucky kissed him. Kissed his smile, his beautiful lips. Kissed his nose and lids, then went back to kissing his mouth. Kissed him longingly, parting Tony’s lips with his daring tongue, let a set of moans leave his throat as they untangled together, both physically and otherwise.

Afterwards, after Bucky cleaned them both and they went back laying on the cushioned stand, he held Tony tight against his chest and whispered into his ear, “I love you so much.”

With another blinding smile, Tony answered, “Me too.”

###  **July 4th, 1715, Georgia Province**

There it was. The wide wooden gates of Savannah, right between the line where the British colonies merged with uncharted lands, on the southern border of Georgia.

The cicadas were thrumming loudly in the background, in a unison that pulsed like a wave of high-pitched notes. It had been by far the hottest day of summer until now, and Bucky was gradually melting inside his old blue justacorp, but when Tony asked why he didn’t leave it behind, he just shrugged.

“What now?” Sam asked, looking at the intimidating gates, following the sharp cups of each log with his eyes.

“You go back to the ship.” Bucky ordered, “Make sure no one sets the Winter Soldier on fire while I’m gone.” Sam snorted at the idea. “Tony and I will wait till nightfall to sneak in.”

And so they waited. Waited until the blue sky transformed into an orange tint as the sun went down behind the gates. Waited until the moon was out and the stars were there to illuminate their path. The air became chilly and the night fell. Bucky hugged his coat tighter around himself.

The noise from people working on the other side of the gates slowly came to a stop as they seemed to retreat somewhere else to rest. Only after the last person left did Bucky and Tony begin to move around again, looking for an entrance.

It didn’t take long before they found a place on the gates where the trunks were loose, and with only a gentle shove, it gave away. The security was low on the inside, just as it was on the outside. Bucky could tell judging by the lack of guards seizing the place that it mostly didn’t need protection. He just hoped it continued to be as poorly secured as they made their way through.

All torches were out, but even with the faint light of the full moon and the stars covering the sky, they managed to see what looked like a plowed field that went on and on for miles. On the opposite side from the field was a rustic, large house shaped like an ‘L’ that stretched to the far west before it suddenly turned to the south. The walls were white and the bottom was covered with dried mud from the times it rained.

Curiously, Bucky noted, all the window blinds were wide open, which, in the end, facilitated their job. With a hand signal for Tony, they both went to separate ends of the property and started checking the insides. Every single window took them inside someone’s bedroom, and every bedroom was the same. Grey walls, a desk and chair, a wardrobe and a bed by the window. But none of the dwellers looked anything like Steve.

This one was too small. This one was too large. This one had dark long hair—

“Psst, James. Over here.” He snapped his head instantly at the sound of Tony whispering a shout. He trotted as silently as he could towards where Tony was standing on the other end of the house, and watched as he looked inside the room, frozen in place. Bucky’s heart quickened its beat.

There he was, lying on his front.

His beautiful blond hair had grown over the normal cut, and it had lost its normal shine, but Bucky would never forget that face, even with a beard hiding the bottom half.

“It’s Steve,” he whispered, not yet believing his own eyes.

Tony gulped next to him and bit his lip, trying to gather himself.

“Come on, I’ll open the window and help you in, then you do the same to me,” Bucky decided, breaking their trance.

Their struggle to climb was minimal, yet they still tensed at the grunts and whines the wood made underneath their weight as they made their way inside. Bucky closed the window again with a soft thud once they were in, and turned away from the window. His movement was terrifyingly slow, every second going on an eternity until he and Tony were both facing the same sleeping, peaceful face. 

Ten years.

It had been ten years since he had last seen those blushed cheeks, and that sharp jaw that was now covered with a shaggy beard. Bucky found himself hypnotised by the rise and fall of Steve’s chest as he breathed,  _ breathed, because he was alive. _

Bucky took a step back. It seemed like it would only take a step forward for this whole scene to crumble weakly and break and fade away from him. It was so easy to lose him again, and it only took a step…

Steve shifted in his sleep, turning to his side, and that was enough to snap them out of their frozen stances. Tony was the first to move again. He sat carefully on the bed, as if this moment was too precious for him to ruin as well, but he was too far gone not to get closer. Tony’s gentle hand fell on Steve’s bare arm and he let out a long sigh, squeezing the arm softly. His shoulders sagged and a peaceful smile appeared on Tony’s face.

Bucky moved hesitantly. He kneeled down in front of the bed, near where Steve’s head lay, and stared.

“Steve,” Tony managed to say aloud, his voice firm, even though he was on the verge of breaking.

Slowly, Steve woke up. His brow furrowed together for a moment, annoyed by being awoken in the middle of the night, yet he complied and opened his eyes. Crystal blue. Bucky had almost forgotten what they looked like. All the air from his lungs left him the moment they made eye contact, and Bucky stayed still, not finding the words to speak.

Steve's smile was shy, and his eyes were somewhat glazed with sleep, “What a nice dream,” he said with a sigh, eyes lazily wandering over Bucky’s face.

“This is not a dream, Steve.” Tony said, smiling wider. 

Steve, hearing the voice coming from above him, blinked a few times, the glaze leaving his eyes as he looked up at Tony. His jaw fell open.

“Hello again, Steve,” Bucky said over the emotions that were threatening to spill with his words.

“I…” Steve turned from Tony to Bucky, his face a plethora of emotions, ranging from hope, to confusion, to joy, to love, until it rested into a mix of them all. As strong feelings go, it didn’t take long until there were tears forming on his delicate blue eyes.

He cleaned them before they could fall, smearing it thoughtlessly againsts his cheeks. Steve set his jaw, brows furrowing in confusion. It was painful to watch him feel so lost, so Bucky did the first thing he could think of, and cupped Steve’s cheek with his right hand, feeling the soft facial hair against his palm.

“Is this real?” Steve managed to ask, leaning against Bucky’s hand.

“Yes, love,” Tony answered softly, “We’re here for you.”

This time, when the tears sprout out of his eyes again, Steve let them fall.

-

Half an hour later, they gathered all of Steve’s belongings (which were only four pairs of clothes and a wooden toothbrush) and put them in a bag. Steve looked at them curiously, standing by the far corner of the room with unfocused eyes.

“Hey, you ready to go?” Tony asked, throwing Steve’s bag behind his back. Steve had tried to argue against Tony carrying his belongings, but one glance at his thin complexion was enough for them to agree otherwise. Steve was too weak, and neither wanted him to carry more than he needed. Besides, the bag was practically empty.

Steve flinched out of his thoughts and shot them a tired smile. He hesitated, though, when approaching the window where his lovers were now standing, steps faltering to a halt. He looked indecisive, lost in whatever was going through his brilliant mind. Somehow, Tony seemed to know exactly what to do.

“For god’s sake, Steve, come here.” he dropped the bag down and closed the distance between them, dragging Bucky with him by his hand and, getting to the tip of his toes, he pressed their lips together. For a long while that was how they stood, with Tony holding Bucky’s hand on for dear life while he pressed even closer to Steve, trying to make up for the lost ten years of their lives apart with a kiss.

It took him a moment, but soon Steve was returning the kiss, wrapping one arm tight around Tony, shaking while holding on and smiling unstoppably. A soft whimper left his lips, making him close his eyes and break the kiss. There wasn’t much else that was holding Steve together, it seemed. So Bucky tentatively brushed a hand over Steve’s shoulder, heart beating strong against his ribs and brought Tony and Steve into a hug.

“We missed you so much, Steve.” Bucky admitted with a whisper before dragging their mouths together, welcoming those lips back after their long journey separated.

###  **July 4th, 1715, Winter Soldier**

Sam was waiting for them impatiently on the main deck, pacing from one side to the other of the Winter Soldier before he spotted them sneaking around the lawn and heading toward the bay.

“Just in time for supper,” Sam joked once they were all safe inside the wide deck of his ship. And by the corner of his eyes, Bucky noticed that Sam didn’t try to hide how he looked Steve up and down, clearly seizing up the newcomer.

Bucky snorted and rolled his eyes, admittedly content that Sam (even if only deep inside) cared enough about him to get suspicious sometimes. “Good, we are all hungry. Fetch someone to bring three plates to my office, will you? We are eating there tonight. There’s much to be discussed.”

Discuss, he had told Sam. But after a boy brought them their food, they locked the door and didn’t waste a second before cuddling under the blankets on the window couch. Bucky was content enough with things as they were that he didn’t feel the need to speak or ask questions, not right now.

It took an entire day before they stopped talking about trivial things and Steve felt at ease enough to ask what came into his mind.

“So we’re pirates now.” he said conversationally, leaning against the railings. He had been quietly watching Bucky give coordinates to his sailing master and a few other orders to more crew members, all the while looking pensive and far away. Bucky didn’t doubt his mind was racing with more questions.

“That we are.” Bucky sighed as he leaned close to him. Tony was still inside their quarters, sleeping his way through the morning like he normally did.

Steve hummed thoughtfully, picking the loose wooden from the rail before looking out in the horizon with a frown on his face.

“You can ask whatever you want, I hope you know that.” Bucky noted, raising an eyebrow when Steve’s face split into a warm smile, “What?”

“It’s just—” he shook his head, looking down at his hands. “I know I can ask, I just don’t know where to start.”

Bucky chuckled softly. “If it makes you feel better, the feeling is mutual.”

His smile, Bucky realized, was still the same. Some things, it seemed, never changed.

Bucky met Sam’s questioning gaze and nodded, giving his second in command the authority for the time being. And with that, turned to his office, asking for Steve to follow.

“This conversation is better to have with Tony around, yeah?” he suggested, and Steve agreed.

-

It wasn’t what Bucky would call a pleasant moment, no.

Their story after Steve was taken away wasn’t a nice one by far, and it hurt seeing Steve’s expression withering the more they spoke. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t make any commentary, just listened with a sour expression as he grew smaller and smaller on his chair.

“This is my fault,” he muttered, flinching at the sound of his own voice. “I shouldn’t have given up so easily. And,” he croaked, “look at you now.”

He placed his hand gently on Tony’s still healing ear and the other over Bucky’s short hair. His hand shook, so with his own, Bucky cradled the one on his hair over his chest, and shook his head. A sense of dejavu bloomed on Bucky’s mind, making him remember a time when he was the one blaming himself for things there were out of his reach.

“Steve, you are no less victim to this than we were. This was not your fault.”

“Please don’t blame yourself for what happened, love,” Tony added, kissing Steve’s palm tenderly.

Steve’s breath hitched, and after a small period of silence, said, “I thought… I thought I’d never see you two again,” his voice a soft whisper, almost too low for them to hear.

“We’re here,” Bucky assured, “we found you and we aren’t planning on letting you go ever again.”

A small smile grew shyly on Steve’s face and he shook his head fondly before admitting, “It’s funny how after all this time, all those years trapped in that place… I never really stopped loving you two.”

Tony returned the smile, “Neither did we.” 

-

“What about you?” Tony asked the next night. A whisper, really, between the silence of their tired bodies and sticky sweat from their previous activities. “What happened to you?”

Steve shifted under Bucky’s embrace until he was facing Tony on his other side, drawing Bucky’s arms tight around him in protection. He stayed quiet for a while. So long Bucky had thought he had fallen asleep until the words started to spill out of him, in a quiet, calm pace.

“When you first arrive, they decide what type of work you’re supposed to do. I was sent to work outside on the farm, but some of the people who arrived with me were designated to care for the matters of the house: clean, wash, make food… 

“They were never mean to anyone, not really. But the way they looked at us wasn’t any better. Most times they looked with pity, with that air of superiority a person who knows they’re doing something selfless gets around them, you know? Which, at least in my case and some of the others, makes no sense. We didn’t ask for that pity, our lives were stolen from us when we got there.

“But there isn’t really anything you can do, is there?” Steve shrugged, “You can’t leave, the place is in the middle of nowhere. They give you food and somewhere to sleep… and in the end, it’s more than you can ask for. More than you can thank for.”

Bucky hugged him closer and kissed his nape, “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

He couldn’t see it, not from his position burrowing his nose deeper on Steve’s nape, but he could hear the faint smile in his voice, “It’s not your fault, James. It really was not.”

###  **July 18th, 1715, Nassau**

It wasn’t a long journey back to Nassau. By the end of the second week they finally arrived back into the warm waters of their island, yet before leaving the Winter Soldier, Bucky was surprised to see the bay almost empty.

Something had gone wrong while they were out. With the spyglass he could see a little further. Houses and tents were turned upside down, and some even had burn marks. He looked around in the open sea again. Nothing out of the ordinary. No ships that Bucky hadn’t already seen in this bay before, no English or Spanish flag…

Odd.

“Happy! Turn us around and take us to the west side of the island. We are not stopping here tonight.”

Wise, it turned out. Bucky had an idea of what had happened to the island when they were out, but it was only when he saw a large group of pirates huddling together by the bay on the other side of the island did it become evident that his hunch was correct.

Once the Winter Soldier was properly anchored—and Bucky made sure Steve and Tony stayed inside the ship until he returned—he marched to the group on the sand, followed closely by Sam and Happy. It was a mess. Pirates from all crews—M’Baku’s and T’Challa’s included—were mixed together, conversing quietly with their heads down, looking too much like men who had lost it all.

He mostly ignored how a handful of heads turned his way as he marched on. There was a hint of  _ je ne sais quoi _ in their stares, something that had never been present before. Something too much resembling hope.

_ There _ . The group he was searching for. Right in the middle of the masses, under the shade of a stretched out canvas, were all the captains, together with Nakia, Okoye, and Natasha. There was a tense air surrounding them, but it quickly dissipated into something more muted once they realized who was approaching.

Bucky stared at M’Baku and nodded once the other captain caught his eyes. M’Baku nodded back, silently declaring that their rivalry was on pause. Which meant that whatever happened while he was gone was greater than their past.

“Welcome back, Captain Bucky,” Nakia said, crossing her arms over her chest. She looked stunning even in the middle of so much disarray. There was nothing in her stance or words that would make one think she was nervous, except, of course, the slender finger tapping against her upper arm. She wore a yellow shirt underneath a leather brown corset, and her clothes looked clean, a sharp contrast to everything else around them.

“I see that I’ve missed something important here,” he said in lieu of a response. He got a few chuckles out of T’Challa and a few other captains, but it soon died out. “Who was it? The British or the Spanish?”

“The British attacked us three days ago. They took over Nassau,” M’Baku began as he paced from one side to the other.

“What about the fortress?”  _ What about the treasure, _ Bucky meant to ask instead, but it was clear from their expressions they knew what he really wanted to know.

“Safe. For now.” Nakia replied.

Bucky nodded. Good. “So what’s the plan?”

To his shock, it was Okoye who answered him this time. Since she preferred mostly to stay quiet and watch it all unfold in front of her, it stunned Bucky into blinking with surprise.

“We don’t  _ have _ one.” She frowned at the sand. “Everything we were coming up with got easily outsmarted.”

“A mole?”

Natasha sighed, leaning back on her chair, nodding tiredly. (The only chair in the entire place. Makes you think why they brought it.) “We were just discussing what to do with him.”

Bucky’s eyebrow twitched. “Who is it?”

-

“Rumlow. I see you’re still breathing,” Bucky said in greeting to the man tied up on the pole.

Brock Rumlow looked at him through his squinted eyes, both because the sun was strong, slowly moving on top of them, and for the swollen bruises on each cheek. There was dried blood on the left side of his face and his chin, but that didn’t faze Bucky. 

No. If Brock was the mole, he deserved worse than this. Much worse.

“God, you stink like piss. Disgusting.” Bucky covered his nose before kicking sand over Brock’s lap. “To diminish the smell, of course.”

“Of course,” Brock parroted, voice hollow and empty, hoarse with disuse. He didn’t fight nor struggle while Bucky threw more sand, but it must have hurt, even if just a little. The sand was hot around this time of the day, and Bucky had seen some open cuts on the man’s leg before covering them up.

Yet Brock didn’t flinch. Maybe he’d given up already, which was a pity, because it would be so much more fun if he fought back.

Regardless.

Bucky unclasped one of his guns from the leather strap on his chest and calmly started checking to see if it had enough powder and if the bullets were in place.

“I always knew you were the one who’d kill me.” Brock huffed a humorless laugh. 

Bucky hummed in agreement. “I always knew it, too. But I had imagined throwing you off the ship and leaving you to the sharks, not this.” His white furious gaze fixed on Brock’s. “It never crossed my mind that you would be a mole for the British.”

“I’m full of surprises, it seems.” Brock tilted his head, flicking his eyes to the gun and watching it silently as Bucky checked the rear sight.

“Why  _ did  _ you do it?” Bucky asked, resigned. Even though their hate was mutual, they had had a similar goal once upon a time; they had been crewmates, and in Bucky’s mind, that had to have counted for something. Maybe he could even spare Brock’s life now, if it did.

Brock laughed, shoulders shaking with darkened mirth before he halted and flinched in pain. But in his eyes, amusement still danced like flames.

“Why do you think,  _ Captain?” _

Bucky lips thinned and with one quick swift of his arm, he aimed and pulled the trigger.

A flock of seagulls startled and flew away as the gunshot echoed over the bay.

-

“Good thing we already got everything out of him,” Natasha commented, raising her eyebrow at Bucky as he made his way back to the tent. He ignored the comment and motioned Sam to a corner.

He put an arm around Sam’s shoulders and said quietly, “I need you to go on board and get Tony and Steve for me.” 

“You sure?” Sam frowned.

He nodded, and with that, Sam and Happy made for the Winter Soldier. Bucky turned back to the captains, ignoring the suspicion growing on their gazes and announced, “I think I have the solution to our problems.”

-

Steve was a planner, that much was obvious to Bucky ever since their first meeting. His creativity and beliefs took him places — places much, much farther than Bucky comprehended most times. That mind had baffled him all those years ago and continued to do so as they spoke.

“The fortress is our strongest defence.” Steve tapped his finger at the map, indicating the fortress, “How many men did you say they posted there? Not many, correct?”

“Yes,” Nakia confirmed, looking at Steve with somewhat concealed wonder.

Bucky held back a chuckle. He knew everyone would love Steve, it was impossible not to. Even if they didn’t show it, their almost instant trust in him was a great indicator that bringing Steve to the meeting had been the right choice.

He raised his eyebrows at Tony, who smiled and nodded in a quiet agreement, seeing the same thing Bucky saw.

“We invade by night. Silently. No one can escape,” Steve ordered. “If the British learn of our invasion at the fort, we lose the element of surprise, and with it the high ground.”

T’Challa and M’Baku exchanged a look before the latter captain took a step forward, “And then what? And how many men will we need?”

“Not many,” Steve shook his head, calculating something quietly, “if you managed a group of thirty, it’ll be enough. They need to be quick and light on their steps. Now, regarding what we do  _ after it…” _ He hesitated and looked at Tony and Bucky, doubt swimming in his deep blue eyes. They both nodded, which seemed to be enough support from their part, “when dawn comes, we turn the cannons towards the town.”

Bucky froze. He was already expecting something wild and unpredictable from Steve, but even so, his plan shocked Bucky. The other captains were much the same.

“You mean to  _ destroy Nassau? _ ” Okoye asked incredulously.

“Destroy it? Maybe. Destabilize the British? Completely.”

Nakia squinted at Steve. “What about the people living there? No way I’m letting them get hurt.” 

“Yes, indeed. We need to get them out of there.” Steve nodded, frowning, “We need to find a way to get them out of there without making it look suspicious.”

“There’s a mass every Sunday morning,” Tony interjected, looking deep in thought, “I can tell the priest to expect a large number of people this Sunday. It’s right over the hill, so you can’t see it down on the bay. The British won’t know that the people are taking refuge from a future battle and will only think the townspeople are going to see the mass. They won’t suspect anything.”

“That might work,” Nakia mumbled in agreement, “I’ll get my girls to spread the word around. Sunday morning there won’t be anyone in the bay that’s not wearing a red coat.”

“And since the British arrived only three days ago, there’s no way to tell that that’s not common around here,” Bucky said, seeing this plan take form in front of his eyes. It was exhilarating, really. “We’ll need an army ready to swarm the bay after the first cannon attack.”

“Precisely, James.” Steve smiled up at him, and Bucky refrained from blushing, but only just. At any rate, he had an image to uphold, and blushing in front of all these captains who’d seen him kill in cold blood would hamper that. “The remaining crews must camp outside the enemy line of sight, but close enough not to lose momentum. They’ll be surprised twice with our attacks, we can easily win before lunch time.”

A snort, “You’re being too naive.” Natasha rose from her chair as she spoke. “What happens once they manage to escape and notify England about the uprising?”

Steve blinked down at her, “There won’t be another way around that, really. But we must gather our strength in the meantime, see if anyone else on the open seas would like to join.”

“A war against the English empire could take years,” M’Baku added. “No way we can fight them all for that long.”

“We might not need to.” Nakia straightened her back, eyes sparkling.

“What do you mean?” Okoye asked, tilting her head slightly to the side as she looked at her lover quizzically. 

“We’ve got mountains of gold hidden away, don’t we? And if there is anything that England loves more than war, it is gold.”

“But, sweet thing, that money—which is Spanish, by the way, hope you hadn’t forgotten—wasn’t it supposed to be ours, to make Nassau flourish?” T’Challa sounded raw, if a little frustrated. Bucky could relate to those feelings.

“We have literal  _ hills  _ of gold, T’Challa. If we give England half of it in exchange for our freedom, we will still have enough for all of us to share and still have a portion to go to Nassau’s fundings.”

Their discussion came to a gradual end, having forged the foundations of their plan, each person present started seeing clearly that victory wasn’t as far off as they once thought. By the time they took a break, the sun was already setting far in the west, tinting the sky pink. It was there, looking at the sunset and standing between Steve and Tony, that Bucky realized how tired he was.

Maybe time had come to head home again.

“There’s one thing I’ll ask for, once this is all over, once we win.” Bucky looked at Nakia. “I want to be left alone. My days as Captain Bucky are done. Another shall take my place on the Winter Soldier, as captain to its crew. But I want to be left in peace.”

He saw the smile forming on Tony’s lips, the pride in his face. Out of everyone present, Tony was the only one who truly saw the lengths Bucky took to get to the place he was today, and what it all had meant to the person he was, deep inside.

For years James had been blinded with hate, blinded with the promise of what Bucky could accomplish in his place, but that wasn’t him, not really.

It was time for Bucky to retire.  _ At last, _ a lighter voice in his mind said.

Nakia blinked, and every other pirate around him froze, surprised by the words Bucky had spoken. But it didn’t take long before Nakia smiled knowingly as her eyes shifted from Tony to Steve. She nodded.

“Don’t worry, Bucky. After this, we’ll only ever meet for tea,” she reassured him. His mind fluttered at the possibility. He could almost grasp the future, feel the calmness it will bring in his bones. “And I won’t forget your share, for all you helped before and will help, with our plan.”

With a smile on his face, he thanked her.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [@latelierderiot](https://latelierderiot.tumblr.com/) on tumblr actually inspired me to write this so we made a collab and here's Eriot's beautiful art! <3 Thank you, really!!
> 
> [You can check the art here on tumblr.](https://latelierderiot.tumblr.com/post/625079153251745792/i-asked-the-void-if-it-wanted-to-do-a-collab-for-a)


	7. Chapter 7

###  **July 21th, 1715, Nassau**

The early morning sun slowly warmed their hideaways to an almost unbearable degree, and the smell of salty sweat filled Bucky nostrils. He ignored it the best he could, not wanting to make an unintended move and send the wrong signal to his crew as they waited for the attack to start.

The days following the meeting were full of preparations for their plan, be it commanding troops of pirates from one side to the other, or taking care of ammunition and food supplies. Sam shifted next to him in the bush in which they were hiding, cleaning the beads of sweat off his forehead with a tired sigh.

He had been most helpful these past days; perhaps Bucky should make the man his successor. The crew already loved Sam, it wouldn’t take much convincing, really. And out of everyone, Sam was the one he liked the most. Not that Bucky would ever tell him that, but that didn’t make it untrue.

Sam, even though he didn’t know how to fight (yet — Bucky would get him there), had a strong sense of morality and an ability to change people’s mind that only few had. He could go far, if he wanted to.

The seas needed daring men, men who didn’t fear the oppression, who knew what freedom tasted like. And Sam was its strongest candidate. He would be the stuff of legends one day.

“I wish I had brought food with us,” Sam whined, bringing Bucky out of his contemplations. 

Bucky held back a snort, rolling his eyes almost fondly. So Sam still had a ways to go before that.

“Are you ever going to tell me who those men walking along with you in the camp were? Tony and Steve?” Sam continued whispering, like they weren’t in the middle of what was about to be a battlefield.

“No,” he answered curtly, not taking his eyes from the direction of the bay where the town rested.

“Did you know you’re no fun? Huh? Has someone already said that to you?” 

“Not today, no. Now shh, Sam.”

“But it was just a simple que—” Sam was cut short by a loud thunderous sound coming from behind them. It didn’t take more then five seconds before another set of sounds reached their ears: that of wood crashing and something heavy hitting the ground.

“It’s started. They’ve secured the fortress.” That knowledge was a victory on its own. Nothing was a hundred percent certain for them and the others who were waiting for the attack on land, and since there wasn’t any way of reaching the army from the fort without the fear of being caught, the only confirmation they’d get were the cannons going off.

And off they went.

They heard the distant screams of men on the bay, probably trying to ready themselves for battle, probably crying over the dead. But the fortress was merciless, and in no time they were attacking again, crushing the town with the cannonballs, destroying everything in its wake.

Three more of those and the crews on the ground would be ordered by Bucky himself to ambush the British in the ruins of the town. Bucky silently thanked himself for ordering Tony and Steve to stay behind and take care of the population together with Nakia on the church grounds.

M’Baku had led his men to the fortress, and bless him, he managed to succeed rather spectacularly in his task. The only two that were still out there, far away from Bucky’s reach, were Okoye and T’Challa. They’d attack by sea, approaching the bay by ship and taking down any enemy that tried to attack them in the water.

They had properly ambushed the English, who was yet to know what was coming.

Bucky raised his hand wide enough so every group hiding around the bushes and trees could see, and waited till the last cannon sounded off. He dropped his hand down and screamed, “Now!”

Hoards of pirates came running down on every side of the bay, shouting and unsheathing their swords or aiming their guns at the red coats. The British were completely surrounded. That’s what happens when one underestimates the power of Nassau. They burn.

Bucky ran into action, gun in one hand, sword in the other, and braced himself for his last battle.

-

He didn’t know who it was, or when it was. It came out of nowhere.

Bucky was fighting near his crew. They had managed to access the town and were dashing through destruction and fire, spilling the blood of their enemies where they went.

“WATCH OUT!” He heard a voice screaming. Sam, probably. But Bucky didn’t register that the warning was for him, not really. He was too focused trying to enter the tavern to kill whatever Englishmen were left standing there.

But something stopped him from opening the doors. He didn’t see what it was. He didn’t see much after that. 

Bucky’s world fell into an opaque darkness.

-

It had been just as Steve had predicted. Took no longer than the sun high up in the sky for the troops of pirates to arrive victorious up the hills, chanting and singing and demanding rum. Nakia had been expecting this. It was why she had Tony put the rest of their food supplies down on a table with countles barrels of rum next to it, ready for the festivities to start.

The priest hadn’t been happy with the prospect of his church being a refugee for pirates when Tony had first spoken to him, and he didn’t look any more pleased now. But he was a child of God, taking them in was his job, wasn’t it? So how could he refuse?

Also, Tony had been good friends with him since the beginning, and he knew the priest wouldn’t refuse Tony his request. It would have been endearing, if Tony hadn’t already fallen long ago for two morons with huge hearts.

Speaking of his morons… 

His eyes traveled around the church until they fell on Steve, who was in a deep conversation with Nakia. They were probably coming up with what to write down on that letter that soon will be sent off back to England, but Tony couldn’t care less about that.

He still could not believe that Steve was back. After all these years apart, believing their lover dead… The pain of the loss mutes down somewhat, it becomes part of you. A melancholic, ice-covered feeling that you try to forget the best you can, because relieving the memories only stung.

It all came rushing down on him when he learned Steve was alive.

Sometimes he still couldn’t believe his eyes. Sometimes he imagined seeing a golden-haired shadow pass by the corner of his eyes and imagine it to be Steve’s ghost, but in the end it was the man himself.

No more ghosts for him. Not anymore.

“Natasha! Nakia! Help!” Sam, James’ second in command, came running into the church. He looked distressed, covered in blood that wasn’t his. “Bucky’s been injured!”

_ What? _

Tony stood up abruptly, not even noticing his shaky legs were taking him to Sam. In the back of his mind, he noticed Steve doing the same.

“Where is he?”

No ghosts, not if he can help it.

###  **July 23th, 1715, Nassau**

“... waking up.”

Too warm. That was the first non-delirious thought Bucky had.  _ Too warm. _ Where was he?

He took a deep, needy breath, like people did when emerging from water. It was followed by a set of shallower breaths, full of panic and fear. He wasn’t sure why, but even in his numb state, not being able to breathe properly was setting off alarms all over his brain.

“Shhh, calm down, James,” a voice said from a distance. Or was it nearby? Either way, the reassuring nature intrinsically connected to that voice made himself relax a bit. He gritted his teeth and tried to focus solely on his breathing.

It took him long minutes, but eventually Bucky managed to open his eyes. The room he found himself in was dark. The windows were covered by planks of wood, stopping sunlight from entering and causing more pain to Bucky’s unused eyes.

A blinding pain struck his entire body. He squeezed his eyes and hissed, tensing his muscles until his body got used to the pain. Or was the pain dissipating? It was hard to tell.

He opened his eyes again. Two figures hovered over him, one on either side, sitting on chairs alongside the bed he’d been lying on. Steve and Tony were looking down at him, pale, tired, but smiling.

… Odd.

“What? Where…” He didn’t even have the energy to finish his phrase and his dry throat ached.

“You’re safe, love,” Tony spoke, squeezing Bucky’s hand tightly. He hadn’t even noticed Tony was holding it.

“Here,” Steve held a glass against Bucky’s lips and tilted it a little for Bucky to drink. Water had never tasted this good before. After putting the water down, Steve brought another glass to his mouth. It had a stronger smell, spiced with alcohol. He drank the rum, feeling its almost instant effects on his body, and he relaxed as the pain numbed a little.

Bucky tried speaking again, this time with more energy, “What happened?”

“We won,” Steve answered, a soft smile lighting up his face at the victory, “we managed to get rid of them all — I mean, you guys did.”

“Everyone’s celebrating it at the tavern. Haven’t stopped since yesterday morning,” Tony added.

“Yesterday?” Bucky frowned, connecting the dots even with a clouded mind, “How long have I been asleep?”

They hesitated, but Tony soon nodded and cleared his throat, “You’ve… been out for two days.”

Bucky gulped, his mouth dry again, “I did… Fuck, what happened?”

Tony’s mouth wavered, and now that Bucky looked closely, his eyes were red and puffed out, Steve’s too.

He looked down at himself, surely there must have been something wrong for him to sleep for almost two— 

His left arm was missing. Completely ripped off. Bucky blinked down at it, because maybe he wasn’t seeing it right. Maybe it was a light trick? An illusion.  _ Surely. _

Steve’s voice was small when he spoke, almost shy to speak as he confirmed Bucky’s fears. “They tried to salvage it, but the damage was too much. It was safer to cut it all off.”

“We weren’t sure you’d survive it. Y-you collapsed before the surgery even  _ started _ ,” Tony added, voice shaking at the edges. “But you still had a pulse, and that was hope enough for us.”

_ His arm, hope. _ Bucky flinched and squeezed his eyes shut. Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck. _ Was this the price of freedom?

They won, Bucky could finally retire, but here was Fate, making him remember for all years to come what he had done. May he never forget his past as Bucky, because it cost him his arm.

At least it was only an arm.

Tears ran down his face freely, but he didn’t feel his chest constricting, on the contrary, he felt free.

“I’m glad,” he admitted out loud, smiling through the tears, “that at least I’m alive.”

Steve, who was on the brink of tears himself only just a moment ago, hunched forward, resting his head on Bucky’s left thigh and sobbed uncontrollably.

“We’re glad too,” Tony managed in a whisper.

###  **January 24th, 1716, Nassau**

James woke up from a calm dream. He couldn’t remember it a hundred percent, but he remembered being on a tiny boat with his eyes closed and someone humming to the time of the swaying of the boat. There was a breeze in the air, salty and heavy, and it hugged James’ face gently for a warm kiss.

There were no clouds in the sky over his head, but from time to time a seagull would fly over the sun, projecting a shadow over him and his boat.

Nothing could reach him there. He was safe.

Reality came back to him slowly. He was still lying down, but instead of the harsh wooden floor of the boat, he was on a soft mattress which still swayed slightly.

He blinked one bleary eye open to see just as Steve shifted to face him on his left. Steve’s smile was warm, as warm as the sun had been in his dream, but it filled him with more happiness than his dream ever would. His hair was messy from sleep, ever so soft as James petted it down with his hand, trying to tame it fruitlessly.

“Good morning, Steve,” he mumbled, shaking off the last remnants of his dream.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Steve answered before dropping a soft kiss on James’ forehead. James grumbled and lifted his head up to give Steve a proper kiss, and Steve chuckled slightly before returning it. 

It still surprised him that this was how he woke up everyday day — with soft smiles and gentle kisses from his lovers. Except… 

The sound of humming came from the kitchen, followed by a muffled grating. James perked up, sitting back on his right elbow and balancing his body so he didn’t fall. Six months were still not enough for one’s body to remember about the lack of weight that came with a missing limb, it seemed.

“Is Tony making coffee today? What’s the special occasion?”

Steve hummed, bringing James down to cradle against his chest. James wouldn’t protest, of course. He craved all sorts of contact from his lovers. Now that he had both again, and there was no more crazy pirating from his part, nothing was stopping him from cuddling or touching them whenever he could, and vice versa. It was mind-melting.

They were real, this wasn’t a dream, as nice as it sounded.

“It’s been six months.” Steve explained, “I think that’s enough motive for a celebration.”

“Six months since we got you back? Wow, it’s really been that long already…” he mused, dropping a set of kisses on Steve’s naked chest.

“Hmm, that’s true.” Steve nuzzled James’ hair with his nose, half hiding his face on the wild locks before speaking again, if a little muffled, “But I think we are celebrating another important occasion, in fact.”

“Which one would that be?” What would be more important than getting Steve back? James was out of ideas.

“You not dying.” Steve pulled away enough so they were looking eye to eye, and James was surprised to see tears forming on Steve’s. “For not giving up on us.”

James swallowed the undignified choking noise that threatened to escape and quickly hid his face under Steve’s chin again.

“I’d never give up on either of you,” James said into Steve’s collarbone. “I love you too much for that.”

“We love you too, James,” Tony said, moving from where—James only now realized—he had been leaning on the doorway to cuddle James’ other side. Tony’s arm hugged James close, pressing protectively over James’ chest while he left a couple of gentle kisses on his lover’s shoulder, trekking to his neck.

Truly, he’d never get used to these mornings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, at the ending of this little journey.  
> Hope you guys enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing it.  
> Comments and Kudos are always welcomed.  
> And as always, you can come scream at me on [tumblr.](https://sparkly-angell.tumblr.com/)


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